


Vows Under the Covers.

by MollyMaryMarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff, Frottage, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Tuxedos, Wedding Night, Wolfstar AU, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyMaryMarie/pseuds/MollyMaryMarie
Summary: Remus is getting married. And not to Sirius."All the promises - vows under the covers.We would play pretend, my love,But it was real. To me."





	Vows Under the Covers.

_Stained glass patterns, porcelain_

_Your watercolors running_

_All your paintings are fading from the walls_

_Miss, I miss the way you breathe_

_The way you twitch in your sleep_

_Your smile, your straight teeth_

_And the scars along on your cheeks_

“I’m getting married,” Remus said, underneath a tight smile. Sirius felt his limbs go cold, he could’ve sworn he heard Remus add the words, _‘but not to you,’_ but it was only the panic echoing in the part of his brain that was suddenly very quiet. The same part of his brain that he used to tuck away certain memories of his best friend. Like the flutter that bloomed in Sirius’ chest when Remus laughed, or the difference in the color of Remus’ eyes when they looked at Sirius with the lights off, or the blood on his lip on the first day they met.

\-----

“Give it up, you little _monster_!” Sirius winced at the word, hearing it in the voice of his mother, hand raised, manicured nails shimmering under harsh fluorescent lights. When he glanced over, he saw a group of boys gathered in a circle on the sidewalk. Between their legs, he could see a small figure, huddled to protect himself from the kicks coming from all around him.

“Hey!” Sirius felt himself shout, his voice sounding much smaller, much younger than he wanted, especially as the older boys directed their rage into his direction.

“You want some?” one of them taunted with a laugh. Sirius smirked, arrogant even at the not-so-tender age of eleven, as he planted his feet onto the concrete underneath them.

“I dare you,” he grinned, canines snarling. Their victim, the boy with the unruly dishwater-blonde hair, looked at him with panic in his bright brown eyes.

“What are you doing?” he shouted, his voice breaking. “Stay out of this!” He got a kick in the ribs for his outburst, he doubled over in pain. Half of the older boys started over to Sirius, and he raised his fists, despite never having been in a real fight. But he’d learned how to take a beating from his parents; this was going to be _easy_ compared to that.

At the end of it, he’d landed a punch or two, a bite or two, and a single black eye was hardly even payment. Definitely not the worst he’d ever been through. Especially since he was considering this a win. The older boys had left, after all.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” the blonde boy called. Sirius looked over, finally able to see his face clearly. His lip was busted, his freckled face was flushed. There were scars all over his cheeks, over his nose. The scars were slightly faded, like whatever he’d gone through had happened ages ago, but the raised edges of those scars told Sirius it had been something terrible. That was something he knew, something he was familiar with – vicious things that can leave scars.

“Sure you did,” Sirius shrugged as he walked over and sat next to him. “It was all over your face. ‘ _Sirius, help me!_ ’” The boy reached up and ran the back of his hand over his mouth, leaving a streak of red along his knuckles. He swallowed hard at the sight of it.

“You don’t even know me,” he mumbled, glancing over. Sirius turned to meet his gaze.

“I’m Sirius Black,” he said, putting his hand out. The boy looked cautiously at him, eyes shifting between Sirius’ face and his outstretched hand, as if waiting for it to be yanked away.

“Remus Lupin,” he replied, carefully slipping his hand into Sirius’. There were scars there, too, and Sirius accidentally let his thumb rub over one for a moment too long. Instead of acknowledging it, he tightened his grip, using it to pull Remus to his feet, as they stood.

“ _Now_ I know you,” he grinned wide. A hesitant, closed smile crept over Remus’ scarred cheeks. “Come on, my friend James lives round the corner. His mum’ll clean us up.”

As they walked, it was silent. Sirius kicked a rock with the toe of his trainers, making sure there was a scuff on them that his mother would notice. It didn’t matter; Mrs. Potter would likely buff it off before he left anyway – she knew what his home life was like.

“Why did you help me?” the blonde boy called Remus asked timidly, and Sirius shrugged, turning down the corners of his mouth. When he looked over, Remus was looking down at his shoes as they shuffled along the sidewalk, and Sirius studied his features. There was an almond-sliver of a scar right at the corner of his eye. It looked like a thumbnail. Like the crescent moon.

“You need a nickname,” Sirius said resolutely, ignoring Remus’ question completely. It was a stupid question. Why _wouldn’t_ he have helped him?

“A nickname?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrow high. Sirius nodded.

“James and me got one. You’re one of us now, so you need a nickname.” With a start, Remus glanced over, shyly running his hand over the back of his neck.

“Well, what’s yours?” he asked, kicking at the rock that Sirius had lobbed off a little too far to the right. Sirius grinned with all his teeth.

“I’m Padfoot. James’ mum used to say that to me when I came round to his house without my shoes on. She’d say, ‘ _Sirius Black, look at you!_ ’,” he turned his voice up higher, adding a heavier lilt on his words, “‘ _Running around on just your foot pads!_ ’ and so I’m Padfoot.”

“What about … your friend?” the shorter boy asked nervously.

 “James is Prongs. You know, like a stag. I call him that because his hair’s all wacky. Looks like antlers.” Sirius laughed raucously, and Remus let out a cautious smile. “You’ll see.”

“I don’t have friends. I don’t have a nickname,” Remus said through a swallow, as if he embarrassed to admit the fact out loud – either to Sirius, or to himself.

“Moony,” Sirius stated quickly, over the ends of Remus’ words. It didn’t matter if he didn’t have friends before this. Or after this. They were friends _now_.

“What?” Remus asked, furrow in his brow. Sirius grinned.

“Like that scar on your eye. Looks like the moon. So, you’re _Moony_.” Sirius watched the new boy from the corner of his eye, watched Remus try and fail to hide a smile. “Now you can’t say you haven’t got any friends. You’ve got me, Moony.”

“Moony,” he said, voice full of soft wonder, like attaining that nickname was his greatest achievement in life. Sirius smiled behind his lips. This kid was going to fit in just fine.

 

They’d all worked it out with their parents – a sleepover at James’. Well, Mrs. Potter had worked it out with Sirius’ mum, who never wanted to let Sirius stay at James’ house. The Potters were, after all, middle class, and Sirius had plenty of friends in families with old money. That was his mum’s response, anyway. Sirius didn’t like any of those ‘friends’. They were rather awful.

Not like James. James was like the brother Sirius had always wanted in Regulus but could never have because of the claw-like grip that their mother had on the younger Black. Evidently, she didn’t intend on making the same mistakes that she had with Sirius – Regulus would grow up proper; he would run in all the right circles and marry the right girl and do everything _right_.

Sirius was okay with being wrong. If being wrong meant staying with James, then he would just be wrong. Besides, it wasn’t just him and James anymore. There was another one.

Remus was quiet, especially compared to the rambunctiousness of James and Sirius, and Sirius had to remind himself to stop asking Remus if everything was alright. Remus was just quiet. It didn’t mean he wasn’t having a good time with them. Sometimes, Sirius would look over and see the brightest smile on Remus’ face. He’d hide it every time he realized it was out.

When Remus got the approval from his parents to stay for the sleepover, James and Sirius both let out a simultaneous victory cry. There was another one of those smiles on Remus’ face – the kind that was too bright for him to hide, but he tried anyway.

They ran and played and laughed until their ribs were aching. Mrs. Potter put sleeping bags on the floor of James’ room for the three of them, and they stole cushions and pillows from every room in the house to build a proper castle to house themselves in for the night. Mrs. Potter called for lights out – that had been some hours ago.

James stayed awake to chat for much longer than Sirius expected, based on past sleepovers. But, as tradition dictated, James still fell asleep much sooner than Sirius. Only this time Sirius wasn’t awake all alone, twiddling his thumbs and trying to count black sheep. This time, he had Remus. It was just the two of them, lying awake in an unsteady barricade of decorative throw pillows, pretending the moonlight from the window across the room, bouncing and reflecting off the white ceiling above their heads was the Milky Way.

Sirius looked over – Remus was already looking back. His eyes were somehow brighter in the darkness, almost golden, and the scars on his cheeks appeared silver in the waning light.

“Why did you save me today?” Remus asked suddenly. Sirius actually flinched, knowing exactly why, but not ready to say it out loud. Even he and James didn’t talk about this.

Sirius took a small breath. Maybe it was the time of night – staying up late always turned Sirius into a talker, but it was usually about trivial nonsense. Like whether there was life on other planets or whether James had eaten the last biscuit his mum made, even when Sirius had told him to save it. Maybe it was the way the moonlight reflected in his new friend’s eyes, the way they appeared golden and shimmering. A little like looking into the darkness of the woods and seeing a pair of eyes glimmering in the shadows, only to see a kitten stumbling from the brush.

Maybe it was because, even though he’d just met Remus that day, that they knew next to nothing about each other, that they came from completely different backgrounds, Sirius still knew he could trust this boy with anything. And that he _would_ trust him with anything, with this thing and with many things, big and small, for a long time. Tonight, and always.

Whatever it was that made him do it, Sirius spoke, but kept his gaze away from Remus’, as if ashamed to say the words aloud. “Because you looked like me. Only there’s never anyone there to save me. Even though I wished there was. I wished for it so many times.” He finally looked over to see Remus had closed his eyes. For a moment, Sirius felt a pain in his chest – the one time he wanted some comfort, some words to tell him that what happened at home was not his fault, and his new friend was asleep. Then, the corner of Remus’ mouth twitched. He spoke.

“I’ll save you, Padfoot,” he said, underneath a half-yawn, eyes still closed. Sirius’ eyes widened as he felt Remus’ fingers find his underneath their shared blanket, the blonde boy squeezing Sirius’ hand softly. “Next time, I’ll save _you_.”

At eleven years old, Sirius Black didn’t know what it was he suddenly felt. It wasn’t love in the way that he loved his mother – the way he _had_ to love his mother, because she was his family, but the way he hated to love his mother because of how she hated him in return. It wasn’t love in the way that he loved James – the loud, overt way he loved James because James gave Sirius a home to call his own when his familial home was in ruins.

This sort of love – if it _would_ be love, Sirius wasn’t sure – it was quiet. It was the sound of the moonlight, in that there was no sound at all. No sound but the rhythmic, melodic breathing of the blonde boy lying next to him, who had fallen asleep with his hand in Sirius’.

Sirius moved in a little closer, left his fingers settled into the warm palm of his new friend, and let out a long-held sigh of relief. He didn’t have to count black sheep to drift off.

 

_Ooh, ooh, I should have wrote that letter_

_You looked beautiful in white, but I stayed home, oh_

_Could never live without you, but I guess I’ll have to_

_You're gone, gone, gone_

 

              “I want you to be my best man,” Remus stated, almost solemnly, and he swallowed, as if he could tell how devastating this news was to Sirius, what a rip in his gut it caused to have Remus ask him to be his best man. To stand next to Remus on the day he married someone else.

“Of course,” Sirius replied instantly, with an overly broad smile, his tongue pressed tight to the back of his teeth to keep himself from saying anything else. He convinced himself that it wasn’t a flash of disappointment that he’d seen in Remus’ amber eyes just then, because why would it have been? This was what would make Remus happy – his best friend standing next to him on the happiest day of his life. But for Sirius, it would be the most _miserable_ day of his.

 

Remus had gone overseas for a few months. That was how all this happened. He’d gone off to do an internship after graduation, for an American company that had a rather unsteady relationship with the company that Remus’ father owned. Sirius knew very little about what Remus’ father did, of course; it was never relevant for him to know.

He suddenly wished he’d paid more attention. He wished he’d donated some of his family’s obscene wealth to Mr. Lupin’s corporation. Maybe it would have prevented Remus from having to go try to bridge the gaps in their business connections. Maybe it would have prevented Remus from meeting the daughter of the CEO. Maybe it would have prevented Remus from falling in love with someone else. Someone other than Sirius.

_Did_ he love her? He smiled when he spoke about her, but not with a smile that Sirius expected to see on the face of someone in love. Not Remus, anyway. Sirius liked to think he knew _exactly_ what Remus looked like when he looked in love. Sirius liked to think that the unique, soft, radiating smile that burst through Remus’ normally solemn expression when he saw Sirius waiting for him outside of class in school was what that expression should look like.

_This_ smile was polite. It was his business smile. He used it on teachers. He used it on Sirius’ parents. He used it on the bartender at the pub. He’d never used that smile on Sirius. James either, for that matter. It was a smile he reserved for strangers. And he was using _that_ smile on a woman he was supposed to be in love with. A woman who would become his wife.

In the time that Remus was gone, Sirius called him every day. Sometimes more than once. The bill for those long-distance calls weren’t cheap, Sirius’ mother gave him hell for it. Yet, he continued to call. He let her scream and howl and claw and scratch; sustained a few wounds from their altercations – most notably when she threw an antique ceramic vase that broke over his skull – but he kept calling. Not once in that time had Remus mentioned this girl.

The wedding was the next day. It didn’t even give Sirius time to adjust, time to realize that his whole world was tunneling and collapsing and failing. How often had Sirius told Remus he missed him? How often had Sirius sighed into the phone and asked Remus when he was coming home? How many hours had they spent, asleep together through the line?

Once, Sirius had even told him that he would leap into Remus’ arms to greet him at the airport, and Remus had laughed – that bright, sharp, unrestricted laugh that he only let slip when Sirius and James were the only ones around. Sirius had brushed off his own comment, saying that Remus would probably let him fall straight to the floor. To Sirius’ surprise, Remus’ response followed as: _“You’d be surprised, Pads. I miss you so goddamn much, I might catch you.”_

And Sirius had to hold the phone at arm’s length for a moment, breathing out a desperate sort of whimper into the pillow underneath him at how adorable his best friend was. But it wasn’t _then_ that he’d fallen in love with Remus. No, he’d realized it much sooner than that.

\-----

Sirius had missed several days of school. His mother was having another manic episode and had barricaded him in his room; locked, bolted and braced with a cherry wood cabinet.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Sirius was the first to admit the mental instability of his mother. Of course, nothing like this ever happened to _Regulus_. Because Regulus was perfect and obedient and didn’t drive a motorbike to school illegally.

Remus had called on the first day of Sirius’ absence, the evening after school. Sirius explained rather calmly, over the screeching of his mother from beyond the door, that everything was normal – Sirius’ definition of normal – and that he’d be back to school in a day or so. However, before Sirius was ready to hang up, his mother had pushed aside the dresser, unlocked the four bolts on the outside of Sirius’ door, and slipped the phone from his fingers. Sirius heard Remus shouting as his mother launched the entire device into the wall across the room, violently ripping the cord from the wall and taking some of the plaster with it.

As his mother turned the ring on her finger, the jewel facing her palm, Sirius let out a shaking, preparatory sigh. She slapped Sirius hard across the face, leaving a sharp slice along his cheekbone from her oversized diamond. Sirius silently clenched his teeth, not even taking in a breath to replace the one he’d exhaled.

His mother retreated with a dramatic sweep of her dark robe behind her. Sirius could hear the familiar sounds of locks clicking into place, followed by the scrape of wood-on-wood from the cabinet being dragged across the floor back in front of his door.

For several long minutes, he sat in silence – not thinking about the stinging of his skin, or the small trickle of blood running down his cheek, or the ache in his heart from hearing the way Remus had yelled his name through the phone that had been yanked from his fingers.

Before he could convince himself it was safe to move without his mother barging back into the room, he heard a light tap at his second-floor window. He glanced over – the skies were getting dark, clouds obscuring the setting sun, and rain was beginning to splatter against the glass. He watched it for a moment, wondering if the universe ran in time with his heart.

As the rain beat steadier, and Sirius’ eyes started drifting out of focus, something foreign soared up from the bottom edge of his window. A pink pebble, taken from his mother’s garden at the side of the house. Eyebrow raised, he waited. Another pebble. It brushed with a light scrape against the wet glass on its way back down.

Sirius peered out. It wasn’t the universe that was in time with his heart. It was Remus Lupin; standing under his window with a handful of pebbles, getting rather soaked in the oncoming storm. Sirius threw his window open.

“What are you doing?” he hissed through clenched teeth. Remus’ smile fell, not at Sirius’ words, but the moment he noticed the dried blood on Sirius’ face.

“Let me in.” Remus’ voice was firm, but it trembled when he spoke.

 “I’m locked in. I can’t get to the front door,” Sirius stated softly, knowing the look that would cross over Remus’ face at that admission, but Sirius was still surprised to see it. Still surprised that anyone would get angry for his benefit. Surprised that anyone cared.

“Then let down your hair, oh, sweet Rapunzel,” Remus grinned and Sirius rolled his eyes, wondering why that phrase made his chest feel funny. That feeling was becoming quite common, but Sirius couldn’t find the cause. It always appeared at the most mundane of things, like a stupid pun that Remus hadn’t meant to say out loud, or seeing James and Remus waiting for him in the hall after detention, or when Remus bought an extra chocolate bar for Sirius.

“I’m not letting you in, Moony.”

“I’ll climb the ivy, if I have to,” Remus argued with a nonchalant shrug.

“Why are you here?” Sirius huffed, pretending to be exasperated, trying to make Remus angry enough to leave. Nobody else needed to be punished for this. Hell, Sirius didn’t even need to be punished for this. But he wasn’t going to let Remus get in trouble. What if his mother hit Remus the way she hit Sirius? Sirius wouldn’t take that chance. Mostly because he didn’t know how he would react if his mother _did_ hurt Remus. Thinking about it worried him.

Still, when Sirius spoke, Remus’ expression softened by magnitudes, his eyes casting up at Sirius with an ethereal glow that put an ache in Sirius’ heart. “I’m here to save you, Sirius.” 

That was it. Suddenly, Sirius understood that concerning flutter in his chest. That flutter was for Remus. All this time, he’d been falling in love with his best friend.

Sirius stood in shock at this revelation, staring with his jaw slack down at Remus; at the wet curls slick against his forehead, at the drops of rain sliding over his pursed lips, at the curves of his chest underneath his soaked shirt. And Sirius let out a load groan.

“No, no, no. _Fuck_ ,” he mumbled, burying his head in his hands, curving over to rest his covered face on the windowsill. He could feel the rain dripping down the back of his neck. He could _not_ be in love with Remus. Remus was his best friend. Remus was _straight_.

“What happened? Sirius? Talk to me!” Remus called – Sirius could hear the concern straining his voice. The flutter grew stronger.

Everything made so much sense now. All those times he’d hated Remus’ girlfriends, no matter how short-lived their romance had been, it was because he was _jealous_. All those times he caught himself looking at Remus a little too long, it wasn’t because he was checking if he had any new scars on his cheeks, it was because he was wondering where _else_ Remus had scars like those.  He wasn’t just in love with Remus – he was _attracted_ to Remus. Had been for a while.

All along, Sirius had tried to attribute it to curiosity. There had to be scars all over Remus’ body, because he was rather self-conscious about it. Not once had Sirius seen Remus without a shirt. But when Remus rose his arms, and Sirius glimpsed the tiny sliver of Remus’ waist underneath his raised hem, Sirius’ heart pounded. Every. Single. Time. It was suddenly so obvious why – he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t considered it before.

“I definitely can’t let you in now!” Sirius shouted back, voice mumbled from where his blushing face was hidden behind his fingers.

“Don’t be stupid! I’m getting drenched!” Remus laughed, and Sirius peeked up.

“That’s part of the problem, Moony!” Sirius grumbled, gripping onto the edge of the window and leaning out. “You’ll have to come in here and change and I can’t …” Sirius took a staggered breath. “I don’t have anything you can wear!”

“It doesn’t matter! I’ll wear a towel, if I have to!”

“Oh my _GOD_ ,” Sirius groaned, draping himself completely over the window’s edge, wondering if the cold rain was producing steam as it collided with his flushed skin.

“Sirius,” Remus said, lowering his voice. Sirius hesitantly looked up to find that Remus’ eyes were boring holes into him. “Please.” Sirius cursed under his breath.

“Wait there.” Remus’ eyes lit up. Some time ago, Sirius had fashioned himself a shoddy rope ladder, just for times like these – when his mother had barricaded him in his room. This time, he hadn’t been overly anxious to go to school, and his mother always called to make up some excuse for him not to be there, so he’d let her. He’d stayed home. But his mother’s episodes didn’t always fall at the most opportune times – this had happened more than once on the morning of an exam – so Sirius had been forced to find ways around it.

He tossed the make-shift ladder out of the window and watched Remus climb up. When Remus reached the top, Sirius didn’t immediately move back to let him in, as he considered the strong urge to place his lips onto Remus’ the moment he was in range.

He didn’t, of course. Still, it surprised Sirius that Remus let his face get so close to Sirius’ without getting uncomfortable. Remus’ eyes darted rapidly around Sirius’ features, but he didn’t move away. At least Remus hadn’t picked up on Sirius’ crush yet.

Realizing what he was doing, Sirius pulled back quickly, settling onto his bed, and Remus crawled into his room, dripping onto the carpet. For a moment, Sirius just looked at him, desperately hoping that this was all hormones, that he _wasn’t_ in love with Remus. Even as he thought it, he knew. There was no one in the world better to be in love with than Remus Lupin.

Except that he was his best friend. His _straight_ best friend. Nothing would, nothing _could_ ever happen between them. Sirius was going to have to get over this, one way or another.

He stopped to rethink this plan as Remus began to strip. He peeled the wet shirt over his head, ringing it out through the open window as Sirius was left to stare with absolute abandon at the form of his best friend. To Sirius’ dismay, Remus’ waist was a bit more toned than he anticipated, based on Remus’ preferred hobby of reading. Sirius’ eyes were drawn to the well-defined cord of muscle along the insides of Remus’ hips. There were scars over every inch of his displayed skin, and Sirius thought about what it would be like to trace them with his fingertips.

“You … uh, you can use the washroom, if you want,” Sirius stammered through a tight throat, his eyes falling onto a scar that extended down into the waist of Remus’ trousers.

Remus looked over quickly. “Oh, God, I’m … I’m sorry, Sirius. I didn’t … do they bother you? I know they’re not nice to look at.” Sirius clenched his teeth, a response just on the edge of his tongue about just how nice they really were, but he stopped.

“They don’t bother me, Moony. I know they bother _you_ ,” he replied, the rhythm of his voice much steadier than he expected it to be, based on the pace of his heart.

“I’m sorry. You’re just always … I forget you’ve never seen them,” Remus stated, looking down at his own chest as he walked over to where Sirius sat. Sirius’ eyes widened as Remus drew closer, wondering if Remus would be able to see the pounding of his heart through his veins. He kept his chin up, trying not to register the fact that his throat was at Remus’ groin.

“I thought maybe you didn’t _want_ me to see,” Sirius replied honestly, hoping that Remus wouldn’t read too far into it. After all, that was before Sirius realized he _wanted_ to see them.

“Everyone else, no. Just you,” Remus replied, and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, agonizing, knowing that Remus didn’t mean it the way Sirius wanted him to mean it.

“How’d you get them?” Sirius asked. Remus had never told them straight out, and Sirius had never wanted to ask. But Remus was standing in front of him, his scars on display, and Sirius had to talk about something other than wanting to run his tongue across them.

Remus’ head was bowed, only his eyes flittered up to look at Sirius. Sirius was almost undone with that look alone; a gaze through dark, hooded lashes, Remus worrying his lip.

“It was a dog, actually. More wild animal than dog, but our neighbors kept him like he was a pet. He jumped our fence and … well, you can guess the rest.” Remus took a deep breath, but it came out short. “I don’t remember much, except _this_ _one_ ,” he said, pulling down the hip of his trousers, uncovering the full length of the scar that Sirius had been ogling.

Sirius swallowed hard, trying, _failing_ not to notice how the hair underneath Remus’ belly button was a bit darker than the hair on his head. He tried not to pay attention to the way it trailed into Remus’ trousers. He especially tried to ignore the exposed crease at Remus’ thigh.

Remus continued. “I fit right into his mouth.” Sirius clenched his fist – he was certainly going to hell for that thought. “This one was all teeth. Ripped a nice line right down my hip.”

Remus met Sirius’ gaze again, and Sirius prayed that his lust was not written in bold letters across his forehead. “I’d show you the rest of it, but I’d have to take off a lot more clothes for that,” he laughed as Sirius bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

‘ _Please do_ ,’ Sirius thought, even the sound of his voice within his mind sounding like a desperate whine. What he actually voiced was “Do they still hurt?”

Instead of answering, Remus took Sirius’ hand and slid it across his skin. So unexpected was this, that Sirius took in a sharp, shaking breath. Remus’ eyes darted from their hands back to Sirius’ gaze, but didn’t remove his touch. Sirius knew Remus probably thought that choked sound was because Sirius was afraid of hurting Remus. In fact, Sirius was hurting _himself_. 

“You feel how soft they are. They’re so old, they don’t hurt anymore. Sometimes they are a little more sensitive than the rest of my skin.”

“Sensitive?” Sirius puffed, the breath in his lungs only sufficient for a single word reply as his fingers moved over Remus’ abdomen. Remus moved his hand to let Sirius explore.

“Sometimes. Like now,” Remus said. Sirius wondered if his voice was always this deep. He was probably trying to keep his voice down, to keep Sirius’ mother from hearing.

“Why now?” Sirius wondered, absently licking his lips and then praying that Remus hadn’t noticed. His hand traced over a circular scar, and Remus lifted his head to the ceiling.

“Because nobody else has ever touched them but me,” Remus replied, letting out a slow breath. Sharply, Sirius began to wonder why Remus was letting him do this. Even more so, based on the way his head was tilted back, Sirius began to wonder if Remus was _enjoying_ it.

“Not even Emily Lindner?” Sirius spoke of Remus’ longest relationship, letting his eyes flitter down Remus’ waist, and he couldn’t help that his hands naturally followed.

“No. Just you,” Remus replied in a soft exhale that made Sirius feel tight in places other than his throat. If he didn’t get Remus out of his bedroom, something was going to happen that was going to change their friendship forever, for better or worse.

Still, this interaction also told Sirius that Remus was more comfortable with him than he was with any other person on Earth. On the spectrum from ‘ _definitely not interested’_ to ‘ _desperately interested’_ (where Sirius found himself), Remus wasn’t, at least, on the far left.

To his own surprise, and with his hand dangerously low on Remus’ torso, hovering just over the waist of his trousers, Sirius breathed out. “Will you stay here with me tonight?” Remus jerked his head down abruptly, and Sirius retracted his hand, quickly covering up what could be misconstrued, even if it was the truth. “I’m tired of being alone in this house.”

Remus knelt, now face to face with Sirius, who still sat on the bed. “What do you think I came here for?” he asked, the golden light in his eyes just a tad darker than Sirius was used to. A dark that wasn’t sinister, or threatening, or worrying. But Sirius couldn’t name it.

“To save me,” Sirius said, letting his head fall forward onto Remus’ bare shoulder. He hadn’t thought this through _at all_. It was going to be a very long night.

Remus leaned into him, sliding his hand over the back of Sirius’ neck, threading his fingers through Sirius’ long hair. The warm breath from Sirius’ lips puffed out against Remus’ collarbone, Sirius could feel it echoing back against his own skin. His lips were so close to Remus’ throat. So close, he could just … he turned his head, his forehead pressed into the curve of Remus’ neck.

“Sirius,” Remus breathed out low, the grip of his fingers tightening in Sirius’ hair.

“Remus, can I …” Sirius began to say, interrupted by the sound of the cabinet outside of his door being pushed away. Sirius leapt up, pushing against Remus’ bare chest. “Shit. You have to go, Moony.” Remus picked up his shirt but shook his head.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, stepping over to Sirius’ closet. “You asked me to stay, and I’m staying.” Sirius couldn’t help the last glance down Remus’ torso as he shut the closet door.

\-----

Again, Sirius found himself glancing down Remus’ torso, and again, Remus watched him do it. Unlike that time, however, Remus’ torso was quite covered – in the white tuxedo that James had begged him to try on as a joke. The three of them had gone to a suit shop to find a tux for the groom and his best man, as the wedding was tomorrow.

Remus had laughed at James’ request, but indulged him. Now, he stood in front of Sirius in an all-white tux, except for a black vest and matching bow tie. James was in stitches, crying from his laughter. Sirius was just crying. He’d never seen Remus in anything like this. It only reminded him that, when Remus looked the most dashing he’d ever looked, Sirius would be standing right next to him, while Remus stood next to someone else.

Noticing the look on Sirius’ face, Remus asked, “Is it that bad?” Sirius snapped back to the present, looking up at Remus’ face, dark with stubble that hadn’t been shaved away in several days, the way Sirius preferred. Sirius put on a fake smile and straightened Remus’ bow tie.

“It looks incredible, Moony,” he grinned, adding softly, “ _You_ look incredible.” As always, Sirius imagined that Remus’ eyes scoured over his face and that Remus swallowed rather hard. Nothing unusual, Sirius constantly read further into their relationship than there was even depth.

There were a few other suits that Remus tried on, but none like that one. Of course, that was the one Remus chose – the one that made Sirius’ chest ache and his mouth water. Of _course,_ that would be the one that Sirius would have to see him in when Remus married someone that wasn’t him. Of _course,_ that would be the one that Remus wore when he said goodbye to him.

Sirius lost all will to care about what suit he would be wearing. James and Remus chose a few, Sirius shrugged, and carried them off to the dressing room. For a moment – just a moment, that was all he would give himself – he sat down on the bench in the room and sobbed, his head in his hands, his shoulders shuddering violently. He wouldn’t love _anyone_ the way he loved Remus, and he was about to watch him vow to spend the rest of his life with another person.

With a deep breath, he rubbed his face, ridding it of all evidence that tears were ever upon it, and loyally arranged himself into a three-piece suit. It was the perfect, opposite complement to Remus’ white suit – Sirius’ was all black, except the white vest and bow tie to match. James had picked it out, absolutely tickled that they would match. Sirius hated it.

After getting the help of an attendant – Sirius never learned how to tie a bow tie, much to his mother’s disgust – Sirius walked out to where Remus and James were waiting. The look on Remus’ face was perplexing. He didn’t look down at the suit, not at first. Instead, his furrowed eyebrows were fixated on Sirius’ splotchy face, reddened from frustrated tears.

Suddenly, Remus’ eyes drifted, and he sat up quickly, chest rising with a deep breath. A single eyebrow rose as he stood, walking over to stand in front of Sirius, who stood desperately still, trying to keep his eyes away from Remus’.

Remus slid his hands up Sirius’ chest to smooth the lapels of his jacket, and Sirius tried not to take a noticeable breath, turning his head to the side to let it out.

“Wow. You’re …” Remus trailed off, evidently noticing how adamantly Sirius was avoiding his gaze. “Sirius,” Remus tried to get his attention. Sirius hesitated, clenching his teeth together, wondering if he could ever look at Remus again. But Remus was, as always, persistent. “Sirius, _look_ at me. _Please_.” He let out a short breath before meeting Remus’ gaze, full of concern. Remus’ hands were still on his chest.

Sirius injected fake enthusiasm into his voice. “What do you think, Moony? Most dashing best man in the history of archaic rituals, don’t you think?”

“Something must be bothering you, Pads,” Remus said first, his eyes dark. “I thought for sure you’d say history of the world. I’m concerned.” Remus winked, breaking Sirius’ heart that much more. He couldn’t even muster a smile in return.

 

After Sirius returned home, he immediately knew he had to do something about this – he couldn’t let Remus marry this woman without him knowing how Sirius felt. It likely wouldn’t change a thing, not a _damn_ thing, but Sirius had to tell him. He had to.

He sat at the desk in his apartment, laid flat a sheet of paper, and with his pen wrote the words, ‘ _Remus, my love_ ,’ before realizing he could go no further. Remus was _happy_ – he must be, or he wouldn’t have asked this woman to marry him. Not to mention, Sirius had been there all along – if there was any chance that Remus had feelings for him, something would have happened already. And nothing ever had. Remus didn’t think of Sirius that way. Would Sirius really throw away his friendship with Remus because of this?

He placed his face into his hands, pressing deep into the sockets of his skull until he saw colors behind his eyelids. The tears found him again. They kept finding him.

 

_All the promises, vows under the covers_

_We would play pretend my love_

_But it was real to me_

_Now I waste my days away_

_I know I can’t recover_

_There’s no love lost, but I’ll be forever yours_

The tears didn’t _stop_ finding him. They found him on and off for several hours, in the dark of his apartment, until he was sure he’d worked himself into dehydration. He thought about that day again – the first day that he realized he was in love with Remus. The day that he thought, for just a moment, that maybe, just _maybe_ , that Remus might love him, too.

\-----

His mother had come in, thrown quite a tantrum over Sirius’ window being open and the amount of water on her priceless rug. After a few more minutes of screaming and a few more slaps to the face, she sealed Sirius within his room again.

“Is it safe?” Remus asked, peering out from behind the closet door. Sirius had forgotten that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His cheeks bloomed red for a second.

“She’s gone, Moony. Come out of the closet,” Sirius laughed, raising an eyebrow at the innuendo. Remus smirked, throwing his wet shirt over his shoulder.

“Well, you’re the one I came out of the closet _for_ , so what does that make you, then?”  Remus taunted, and Sirius bravely bit down on his lip, purposefully letting his eyes drag down Remus’ chest, grateful for this façade he could hide behind. Except, when he looked back up at Remus’ face, he watched Remus’ eyes widen. It must have gone too far, Sirius thought.

“You want to take a shower?” Sirius asked. By the expression that Remus gave him in return, Sirius wondered if their game was still on, but it disappeared quickly.

“Oh,” Remus said. “Yeah. Yes. Thanks.” It was unusual for Remus to stammer. Sirius was going to have to remember to back off – obviously it was making Remus uncomfortable. Sirius was just glad that Remus didn’t know the truth – that it wasn’t exactly a game. Not for him.

After Sirius turned on the water for his friend, he went back into his bedroom, trying to figure out what clothes he had that Remus would be most comfortable in. He’d just settled on an old t-shirt and pyjama pants when Remus called his name.

“What do you need, Moony?” Sirius responded through the crack in the door.

“Does this happen a lot?” Remus asked, his voice muffled from underneath the running water. Sirius bared his teeth for a moment, not especially wanting to talk about this.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“What?” Remus called back. “Sirius, come in here, I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” And again, Sirius bared his teeth, but for an entirely different reason. Against his better judgment, he went into the steam-filled washroom, settling himself on top of the counter. At first, he tried not to look at the naked silhouette of Remus through the frosted glass door, but that failed quickly.

“I said it’s fine. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Which is not at all what I asked,” Remus said, with half a laugh. “So, I take that to mean this happens a lot more often than you let on.” Sirius let out a frustrated breath.

“I’m used to it. It’s not a big deal.” In response, Remus let out an irritated groan – Sirius could see him throw his head back and tried not to ogle the curve of his throat.

“You’re deflecting, Pads. It’s worrying me,” Remus sighed, the softness of his voice nearly drowned by the sound of falling water.

“What do you want me to say?” Sirius tried not to bark in return. “Yes, it happens more than I tell you about, but what is telling you going to do to fix it?”

“I’m your best friend, Sirius. You should be able to talk to me about shit like this.” Just then, the water shut off, and before Sirius could grab a towel, Remus pushed open the shower door just enough to give Sirius a glimpse of his naked left side, shoulder to shin.

“Jesus, Remus,” Sirius hissed impulsively, his eyes scattering over every bare inch of skin laid out before them. Quickly, he corrected, throwing his hand over his eyes and blindly tossing a towel in Remus’ general direction.

“Never knew you were such a prude,” Remus quipped with a soft laugh as Sirius peeked through his fingers. Remus had wrapped the towel loosely around his waist, which really wasn’t all that much better – it hung much lower than his trousers had. Water still rolled down over his skin, the scars on his chest looking more raised than they had before. Sirius had to look away.

“Piss off,” Sirius grumbled, blushing feverishly. Remus walked over to where Sirius was perched on the countertop, placing his hands on Sirius’ knees.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Remus said. His hands were still hot from the shower, the water dripped from his skin onto Sirius’ clothes.

“Of course,” Sirius lied, not looking Remus in the face. Because there was one thing Sirius definitely couldn’t tell him. Persistent as always, Remus leaned into him, trying to get Sirius’ gaze to meet his own. Sirius shifted away to one side, leaving just enough opening between his knees for Remus to fall between them. Off balance, Remus’ hand slipped over Sirius’ thigh, planting his face directly into Sirius’ chest. On instinct, Sirius reached out, holding Remus by the ribs.

Surprisingly, Remus didn’t immediately move away. But Sirius couldn’t take him being this close without acting on it – he had to put some distance between them before he did something that he would regret. Something that would make him lose Remus forever.

Just as he was about to speak, to push past Remus, Remus reached up and took Sirius by the chin. Sirius’ breathing instantly halted, but his heart rate tripled.

“I never knew it was this bad,” Remus said softly, aligning his face to Sirius’. Was he talking about Sirius’ crush? Did he know? More importantly, was he _acting_ on it? 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Sirius stumbled over his words, eyes drifting down to Remus’ mouth. He could taste the lingering cigarette smoke on Remus’ lips – a habit that he had unfortunately picked up from Sirius. It perplexed Sirius, why he’d only just recognized this crush, because he specifically remembered being fixated on watching Remus smoke, more than once; how delighted he’d been when Remus took up _his_ habit.

“This isn’t your fault, Sirius,” Remus whispered. At his tone of voice, Sirius nearly leapt forward to claim his mouth for his own. Until he realized that Remus was wiping the blood from Sirius’ cheek. “It’s your mother’s fault. You don’t deserve this.”

Oh. Remus _didn’t_ know about Sirius’ crush, then. This was about the way his mother treated him. Really not the topic that Sirius wanted to focus on. His heart dropped, just a bit.

“Right,” he sighed, slightly defeated.

“I mean it.” Remus adjusted the grip he had on Sirius’ chin, sliding his hand out along Sirius’ jaw to hold him steadier, his fingertips brushing against Sirius’ earlobe. “You’re better than this. Better than _them_. You’re …” Remus’ voice trailed off as Sirius recognized that Remus’ gaze was suddenly fixed onto his own, his fingers pushing a little further onto Sirius’ neck. Remus swallowed, Sirius was sure of it. “You deserve better.”

‘ _Do I deserve **you**_?’ Sirius asked, but only in his head. In truth, he knew he didn’t deserve someone like Remus and, even if he did, Remus would never have him. They were _friends_. That was all they would ever be. The position that Sirius found himself in was nothing unusual. Remus had always been this forward with Sirius. Since that first night they fell asleep holding hands.

“You must be exhausted, Moony,” Sirius laughed to clear the tension trapped in his chest at the way Remus was holding him. “Too many nights you spend worrying about me,” he joked, pushing past Remus and hopping from the counter. For a moment, Remus stood still, hands pressed to the counter underneath him. He let out a short sigh.

“I must be,” he mumbled to himself, turning to Sirius with a tight smile. “Maybe I should go.” He watched the expression on Sirius’ face closely. Sirius tried not to fall apart.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s late. You said you’d _stay_ ,” Sirius argued urgently, hoping that he hadn’t already made Remus so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to be near him.

“Do you _want_ me to stay?” Remus asked carefully. Sirius furrowed his brows.

“Of course. I asked you to, didn’t I?” Sirius mentally berated himself for making everything so suddenly awkward between he and Remus. Fine, he was in love with Remus. He’d admit that much to himself. But he was not going to push it on him. “You take the bed, I’ll …”

“Oh, come on,” Remus groaned, throwing his arm toward Sirius’ bed. “There’s plenty of space for both of us. I promise to stick to my side.” Sirius narrowed his eyes. What did that mean? He decided to ignore it for now, not exactly wanting to bring up the topic of how much he was in love with Remus and how hard it would be to keep his hands to himself all night.

“Whatever you say, Moony. Those clothes on the dresser are for you,” Sirius pointed across the room as he crawled into bed, inching as close to the wall as he possibly could. As Remus reached the dresser, he hit the light switch, and the dark room flooded with moonlight.

When Sirius looked up, he heard Remus’ towel hit the floor. In the dim light, he saw the pale silhouette of his best friend, standing naked in his bedroom, turned just enough to keep the most vital pieces of him concealed by shadow. It took every ounce of energy Sirius had left not to curse out loud at the sight of Remus’ bare, expansive waist, his eyes greedily tracing the curve of Remus’ backside. Remus curled, bending to slip into the pyjamas and Sirius bit his knuckle.

As Remus slid into the bed beside him, Sirius took a breath and held it. There was tension in the air, but he wasn’t sure where it came from. Remus had seemed frustrated with him a moment ago – right after he had cleaned his face. He’d likely noticed all the less than subtle glances that Sirius cast down at Remus’ lips, felt the pounding of his heart in his throat. Maybe he was finally piecing together Sirius’ feelings for him and it was becoming awkward.

This couldn’t go on. Sirius couldn’t let this happen. In love or not, Sirius was not going to lose Remus. He would not lose his best friend. He had to find a way to fix this.

“Moony?” Sirius called softly, turning to face him. Remus was already turned in Sirius’ direction, but his expression was heavy – he watched Sirius through hooded eyes.

“Yes, Pads?” Remus hummed, inching in a bit.

“Don’t let me fuck this up.” Remus’ eyes got a little wider, he woke a little more, he rose up to place his palm on the pillow next to Sirius’ head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone bordering angry. Sirius laid still as Remus hovered over him, his dark-blonde curls swooping down over his forehead.

“I’m …” he started, and then restarted. “I don’t want to drive you away.” Remus’ expression softened instantly, and his elbow buckled – he rested his head in his hand, his elbow on Sirius’ pillow. This put his face significantly closer to Sirius’, so Sirius held his breath.

“Why would you?” Remus asked, voice low and deep. Again, Sirius didn’t know how he hadn’t realized this crush a thousand times before. He could remember looking up at Remus, just like this, in the dark, the thought of what Remus’ lips would feel like on his own only a passing thought, but a clear, well-formed though, nonetheless.

“You’re my _friend_ ,” Sirius emphasized, mostly to himself. “And I don’t want that to change. Not ever.” And that was the truth. Granted, he would love to add a new depth to the definition of that word, he would love for Remus to be the kind of friend that occasionally put his tongue in Sirius’ mouth. But more than anything, he wanted Remus to be his friend.

Sirius didn’t understand the sadness that was suddenly evident in Remus’ eyes, or the sense of heaviness that fell over them. But Remus spoke, pushing slightly back from Sirius, his golden eyes a shade or two darker than usual.

“Padfoot, I will always be your friend,” Remus sighed with a soft, sad smile. “And if you never want that to change, then I promise, it never will.”

Sirius took a deep, shaking breath. “Swear it to me.” That phrase seemed to spark something in Remus’s face, but he brushed it away quickly.

“I can do better than that,” Remus grinned, holding up his free hand. “I’ll pinky swear. You and I will be friends until the day we die.” Sirius took it quickly and linked his little finger into Remus’. With their fingers joined, Remus pressed his lips to his own thumb, and Sirius followed, realizing this would be the closest he’d ever be to stealing a kiss from his best friend’s lips.

\-----

With that memory in his mind, Sirius stared up at an empty, dark ceiling. For the first time, Sirius wondered if he would break that vow he’d made with Remus. Maybe they wouldn’t be friends after tomorrow. In fact, Sirius wasn’t sure how they _could_ be.

_Walk the grove we’d always go_

_Where the summer made our shadows tall_

_I look out for them, but now there's only one_

_Run my hands through winter grass_

_Pretend I feel your warmth again_

_But the grass is cold and dead_

_My pain might never end_

 

He hadn’t slept. Not once. Every time he closed his eyes, he could only see Remus’ amber eyes, staring down at him in the dark, like they had when they were teenagers. And he would open his eyes, expecting Remus to be there. Remus was never there.

In the middle of the night, Sirius left his apartment. He had no plan, no goal, no destination. He just walked. His feet took him in an expected direction. The apartment he lived in was rather close to his mother’s home – on the same street, in fact – but it was only because Remus’ house was also on this street. Once Sirius was old enough to move out, he made it happen, but he didn’t ever let himself get too far from Remus.

 There was a field in the backyard of his mother’s house that he and Remus had spent a great deal of time in, when Sirius’ mother had locked him out of the house. His body led him there, though his heart told him to stay away. There was nothing to be found in this field but memories of a time when he thought that maybe things would be okay, that he and Remus could just be friends. That maybe he and Remus could be _more_ than just friends.

\-----

“Locked out again?” Sirius heard from where he laid encompassed by the tall weeds in the unkempt back lawn of his mother’s house. He opened a single eye, squinting into the sunlight that was only kept at bay by the face of Remus Lupin, who was as bright as the sun, anyway. Sirius’ grin was involuntary and wide.

“Nothing new,” he stated calmly, closing his one eye again, as he felt Remus settle next to him in the warm, summer grass. Without thought, Sirius reached out and found Remus’ knee with his fingers, squeezing softly, as a gesture of gratitude for his being there.

Such was the extent of their relationship – they had just kind of fallen into this. It had been several months since Sirius’ startling (and not-so-startling) revelation of love for his best friend, when he had vowed to himself, and to Remus, that they would always be friends. That they would only, ever be friends. That Sirius wouldn’t do anything to screw it up – he wouldn’t act on this ache clawing at his chest. Even if it meant he couldn’t have Remus the way he wanted. Even if it wounded Sirius every time he had to hold himself back.

But this was nice. The way they had settled was _nice_. It was a little like being a couple, without the benefit of romance. The affection, however, was generous between them. Like Sirius putting his hand on Remus’ knee. Like Remus resting with his head on Sirius’ leg, sharing a cigarette as they waited for James after football practice. It was comfortable.

There was the occasional sexual tension – Sirius couldn’t help that. After all, it was _Remus_ , and Remus was practically perfect. Sirius tried – he honestly, truly tried not to be attracted to Remus, but Remus didn’t make it easy on him. Because it was _Sirius_ , and Remus was more comfortable around Sirius than anyone else.

So, Sirius chewed on the inside of his lip when Remus climbed into his room, drenched in sweat and breathing hard from running the distance from his house in the scorching sun. And Sirius didn’t act when Remus lounged around his bedroom with his shirt off afterward because it was _so hot_ , and Sirius’ house was so old that there wasn’t even central air. And Sirius clenched his fists at his sides when Remus fell asleep with his arm draped over Sirius’ chest, grit his teeth when Remus’ hands traveled down Sirius’ waist as Remus slept.

This was the new normal for them. Sirius let his hand linger a bit on Remus’ knee, draped his wrist over Remus’ thigh, and Remus didn’t stir at all. Just let out a contented sigh. Sirius opened his eyes, glancing over at Remus, who had his legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his hands, his face toward the sun. Sirius had never seen anything in his life that made him happier than this – than seeing Remus by his side, warm and smiling and free.

Remus moved before Sirius was ready to let him – he shifted to lie down next to Sirius in the grass and Sirius’ hand, still on Remus’ leg, brushed over the zipper of Remus’ trousers. For a moment, Sirius’ mind went abruptly vacant – he could only focus on his fingers, suddenly between Remus’ legs, and he forgot to move. He may have flexed his fingers, just once.

“If you want to get me off, you’ll have to move a little more than that,” Remus replied calmly, just the slightest waver in his voice. Sense flooded Sirius’ brain and he retracted.

But he was feeling brave – the sun was warm, _Remus_ was warm, and Sirius was buzzing from the feel of Remus against his hand, and the way Remus seemed totally undisturbed having Sirius’ hand between his legs. In fact, the way Remus spoke – the tone of his voice, the choice of his words – made it seem like he was _daring_ Sirius to take it further. That challenge from Remus sparked something rather dangerous in Sirius’ chest. But when Sirius opened his mouth to reply, Remus spoke again, the expression on his face changed dramatically. He looked away.

“I’m leaving,” Remus said quickly, as if he had to get it out immediately. Sirius felt the impact of the words in his gut, all warmth sunken from his skin and dissolved into the cold earth.

“Leaving?” Sirius repeated, his voice diminished, fading. What did that mean? Had Sirius’ touch really bothered him that much? He would back off – he would stay away from Remus for a while if that was what it took, but Remus couldn’t _leave_ him. Remus took in a shaking breath, placing a hand into the grass on the opposite side of Sirius’ face, leaning down over him.

“It’s only for a couple months after graduation. It’s for my Dad. I don’t really have a choice.” Remus searched Sirius’ face, surely finding only shock and regret. For a brief moment, Sirius felt relief – this had nothing to do with _them_. Except – Remus was still _leaving_.

“Are you coming back?” Sirius managed to say through a clenched throat.

“Of _course_ ,” Remus insisted, balancing on one hand so that he could brush the hair from Sirius’ forehead, letting his fingers brush softly across Sirius’ temple before settling his weight back onto both arms, Sirius in the middle. “I’d bring you with me if I could.” The warmth of Remus’ smile spread into Sirius’ chest and the tension eased a bit. At least Sirius knew it wasn’t because of _him_ , because of how _different_ they had become together. 

“Where are you going?” Sirius asked, reaching up and encircling Remus’ wrist with his fingers. Remus’ eyes darted to the movement at first, biting on the inside of his lip.

“The States,” Remus said, with a slight roll of his eyes. Sirius laughed. The panic that gripped his heart loosened a little with every moment Remus lingered over him. 

“Will you be able to call me when you get there?” Sirius felt so childish, clinging to Remus the way he was, but Remus’ assurance was the only reason Sirius could still breathe.

“I’ll call you every day,” he grinned. “If you want,” he added quickly, as if afraid that Sirius was going to be anything less than thrilled to hear Remus admit that he would think about Sirius often enough to call him every single day they were apart. The more Sirius thought about it, he wasn’t sure he and Remus had spent a day apart in years. Possibly since they met.

“Of course I do,” Sirius gushed, feeling the torrent of blood spread into his cheeks as soon as he said it. If Remus noticed the blush, he didn’t say anything. He just smiled down at Sirius.

“Listen, if I’m going to leave …” he trailed off, shifting his weight to one arm again, letting the fingers of his other hand sweep down the curve of Sirius’ jaw. “Maybe we should …”

“Padfoot! Moony!” Sirius heard James call, from somewhere close, down the street, around at the front of Sirius’ house. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut tightly, gritting his teeth. When he opened his eyes again, Remus’ expression had evolved into a smile that blocked out the sun.

“Maybe we should what, Moony?” Sirius asked, praying that this was the moment he’d been waiting for – that he could tell Remus exactly how he felt.

“We’ll have time for that later,” Remus said, his smile not matching the slight greying of the amber of his eyes. “Let’s go.” He stood, holding his hand out to Sirius. And Sirius took it, of course, and let his fingers stay a little longer within Remus’, before they rounded the house.

 

They hadn’t had time, as Remus had said. Graduation had been the week after, and everything had happened so quickly that Remus and Sirius barely had a moment alone.

Sirius and James had taken Remus to the airport the day he left. There was something unsaid in Remus’ strained expression, in the way he squeezed Sirius’ hand as they walked through the terminal. When James left to check the flight times, Remus had grabbed Sirius by the shirt, his gaze frantic, eyes scattering over each of Sirius’ features, studying them

“Before I get on that plane, I need you to know …” Remus said, swallowing, the end of his words drowned by the conversations of people saying their goodbyes and others saying their hellos. Remus’ grip on Sirius’ shirt softened, his fingers spread out against Sirius’ chest.

“Say it, Remus,” Sirius begged, desperate to hear what he himself had been waiting to say. Remus stepped in, fingering the frayed collar of Sirius’ t-shirt.

\-----

 Remus never said it. Sirius wasn’t sure he ever _was_ going to say it. Though they had talked on the phone daily, Remus insisted it was something that needed to be said in person, and that these would be the first words Sirius heard, the moment Remus was back on English soil.

Instead, Remus’ first words to Sirius had been, ‘ _I’m getting married_.’ Instead, Remus clawed a gaping wound into Sirius’ chest and watched him bleed out in front of him.

“Locked out again?” Sirius heard from behind him. He didn’t turn.

“Didn’t really expect to be, but here we are,” he replied blandly, a twinge of spite in his voice. He didn’t mean the house. Remus settled next to him and Sirius looked over, out of wretched habit, to see Remus’ flushed cheeks. It wasn’t that warm outside. If anything, it was rather cool with impending autumn. The only time Sirius had ever seen the unsolicited color of a blush on Remus’ face was when he’d been drinking, which had never been that frequent.

This was the last place he’d expected Remus to find him. After all, it was the place where Remus made Sirius believe that they had _something_ , whatever something it was. Something that wasn’t just friendship. Something that was different than what Sirius had with James.

But they didn’t. There was nothing different. If only Sirius had told Remus the truth – told him how he felt, asked him where they stood. Anything. If nothing else, Remus could have politely declined Sirius’ feelings and that would’ve been that. Maybe their relationship would have changed, but it would have been better than this. Better than spending two months believing that Remus might just be in love with Sirius, too.

“You’re not happy,” Remus stated, factually. Sirius ground his teeth to keep his emotion in his mouth, instead of spewing it all over Remus. Instead of telling Remus how devastated he really was. Instead of telling Remus how long Sirius had been in love with him.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy, Moony? You’re happy, so I’m happy.” Sirius spoke through tight lips, the lies burning an acrid hole in the bottom of his gut.

Remus scoffed. “You have no idea how wrong you are, Pads.” Sirius felt his heart clench, and then admonished himself for getting his hopes up.

“You’re just getting cold feet,” Sirius reasoned, mostly with himself.

“No,” Remus said, shaking his head a little more violently than Sirius thought he would have if he had been sober. Remus pulled his knees up to his chest. “That’s not it.”

Sirius closed his eyes, letting a silent breath fall from his mouth, catching with a stuttering sound as it passed through his bared teeth. He wanted this – didn’t he? He wanted Remus to admit he wasn’t happy with her, to admit that he wasn’t happy because he was in love with someone else. Because he was in love with _Sirius_. Then why was about to do this?

“Don’t be nervous, Moony,” Sirius said, a twinge of regret in his voice, even as he spoke, knowing how much he was about to fuck up. Hating himself for it. “You must love her if you asked her to marry you.” Remus furrowed his brows, turning toward Sirius, leaning down to make Sirius look him in the eye, from where Sirius was keeping his face toward the grass.

“Sirius,” he sighed. “Do you really not see what’s going on?” 

“Well, she _is_ the one you’re marrying,” Sirius said, with a bit of spite in his tone, avoiding Remus’ gaze as stubbornly as he could, knowing his expression would give him away.

“You’re such an oblivious twat,” Remus whispered. Before Sirius could begin to argue, Remus slipped a hand against Sirius’ neck and pulled Sirius’ mouth toward his own. But Sirius quickly retracted before Remus could get there, regretting it instantly.

“No,” Sirius growled, pushing Remus away and standing on trembling feet. “You’re drunk, and scared, and confused, and I _won’t_ let you ruin this because of _me_.” Sirius rambled, but he knew. Remus wasn’t that drunk. Not drunk enough for this to come out of nowhere. But whatever they had together, whatever could have been, disappeared when Remus fell in love with someone else. Sirius wouldn’t let Remus do that to _another_ person in love with him.

As Sirius ran, blinded by tears that burned his eyes, he heard Remus calling his name, heard Remus shouting his apologies. He didn’t stop running.

 

_Ooh, ooh, that cathedral hall_

_And that ivy wall, aisle I'll never know, oh_

_Could never live without you, but I guess I’ll have to_

_You're gone, gone, gone_

 

The next morning, Sirius went to the church. The wedding wasn’t until that evening, but Sirius already knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand next to Remus as _only_ his best man, couldn’t listen to Remus vow his faithfulness to this woman, knowing that only the night before, Remus had been with _him_ instead. He couldn’t stand next to Remus knowing that, no matter how small, there was a part of Remus that loved _him_ back.

The church had already been hastily decorated, most likely by the bride’s immediate family – Remus had told them they’d flown back with him. Something about some business arrangements the CEO, the bride’s father, still had to make with Remus’ dad. Sirius hadn’t been paying attention. Everything that came after ‘ _I’m getting married’_ had gone mostly unheard.

As rushed as it all was, the church was actually quite beautiful. Ivory lace bows decorated the end of each pew, adorned with bright red lilies and white wisteria. The stone wall behind the pulpit was swathed in bright green ivy, delicate white flowers dotting the vines like snowflakes. It was perfect. Would have been perfect, had Remus not been marrying the wrong person.

It struck Sirius quite suddenly that this would be the only time he would ever stand at the end of this aisle. He wouldn’t get to see the joy on Remus’ face on his wedding day, so he let himself imagine it. He pictured Remus standing at the end of this aisle, in the white tux James had gotten him to try on as a joke but had bought when he’d seen Sirius’ reaction to it. Maybe there would be a tiny green sprig in Remus’ front pocket. James would be standing at his side, of course, because someone had to stand in as best man, since Sirius couldn’t do it.

And Remus’ face would glow, bathed in the colors of light coming in from the stained-glass windows along the side of the church. His amber eyes would dance as they watched the love of his life draw ever closer, and his smile would blot out the sun.

Sirius’ knees buckled where he stood – he fell to the hardwood floors underneath his feet and he sobbed. It wasn’t the first time Sirius imagined that exact scenario, but it was definitely the first time he’d imagined it with someone other than himself walking down the aisle, someone other than himself lighting bright Remus’ entire visage.

“Couldn’t we have done this in the Hamptons?” Sirius heard a shrill voice demand, a tone so biting that it rattled his spine. Quickly, he collected himself, sniffling and blinking and scrubbing the tears from his cheeks as he stood, ducking past the group of women who entered the church as he rushed out. They didn’t even acknowledge him.

“Sweetie, you know we coul–” An older woman spoke and was quickly interrupted.

“I _told_ them I wanted roses on these pews. How incompetent could they be?” The girl with the shrill voice continued. As Sirius realized this was most likely the bride and her family, he paused, just outside the door, desperately hoping he was wrong. Remus loved _her_?

“Remus isn’t going to be happy,” the girl hissed. Sirius cringed at the sound of Remus’ name on her venomous lips. The woman Sirius thought to be her mother seemed to go pale.

“I’ll see if I can take care of it.” As the mother hurried away, Sirius did the same. He couldn’t stand to listen to the girl speak anymore. He couldn’t stand to hear her speak Remus’ name again. The way she had spoken about Remus, and the way the mother had reacted, made Sirius wonder how well he knew his best friend. Obviously not well enough, since Remus was marrying a girl that neither of them knew anything about. Not well enough, since Remus would marry her without even telling Sirius until it was already too late.

As he walked home, Sirius realized he couldn’t stay here – couldn’t stay in this town. He would come back and visit James from time to time, and he would surely see Remus around, with his new wife, his new family, his new life. They would exchange pleasantries, and maybe Remus would wonder aloud why they never spoke anymore, and Sirius would laugh it off to drown out the ripping sound echoing from within his chest.

But he couldn’t stay here, on the street where Remus lived. He couldn’t walk past the house that Remus had grown up in and not remember things the way they used to be. He couldn’t see the dull glow from the bedroom that used to be Remus’ and not remember the time they had pretended something that had felt very real to Sirius.

\-----

Midnight, the start of the last day of Christmas holiday. James was out of town with his parents until the next morning, so it was just the two of them – Sirius was staying over at Remus’ house, as Remus had been obsessed with finally beating Sirius in poker, a feat that he had never been able to achieve. This night was no different.

Except it was quite different to Sirius. It hadn’t been long since he’d realized he had developed feelings for one of his best mates. Usually James was around as a buffer, to keep Sirius’ stares from being overly obvious, or to keep Sirius from getting any crazy ideas about making any romantic confessions across the lunch table. Tonight, James wasn’t here.

“You know it’s only because you’re a really good liar,” Remus huffed, as he lost the last game, the last of many losses. Sirius grinned, running his tongue over his teeth.

“You’re just mad because you’re losing,” he laughed loudly, throwing himself back onto the carpet, his dark hair fanning out on the white fibers.

“I’m ser … I’m not kidding,” Remus adjusted his wording as Sirius looked up excitedly, ready to spring his trademark, ‘ _No, **I’m** Sirius_ ,’ joke that they were all quite careful to avoid.

“When have I _ever_ lied to you, Moony?” Sirius eased himself back again, crossing one ankle over the other and folding his hands behind his head. It was true – keeping this _one_ truth from Remus wasn’t exactly lying. Just omitting. And omitting only to avoid the awkward conversation that would inevitably occur after the truth was revealed.

“That’s not fair. Because I always know what you’re up to. I’m not sure I’d know if you _were_ lying to me, to be honest.” Sirius cocked his head, looking at Remus.

“Alright, how about I offer you three statements, and you have to pick out which one is the lie?” Sirius gambled with a smirk as Remus watched him warily.

“What happens if I pick the wrong one?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at Sirius, and the smirk on Sirius’ face grew with each passing moment, becoming more and more cunning.

“More importantly, what happens if you get it _right_?” Sirius countered,

“Do I win a prize?” Remus asked, an intriguing expression on his face. It sent a sharp prick into Sirius’ gut, and he tried to ignore what looked like excitement in Remus’ eyes.

“Depends on what you want,” Sirius replied, his breathing suddenly shallow as he considered what it was that Remus might ask him for.

Remus watched him for a moment. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Alright.” Sirius cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t waver. “Mrs. Potter was married once before to someone other than James’ father.” Sirius watched Remus sit up straighter, looking closely at Sirius’ expression, as if trying to read him.

“Next,” Remus said, leaning in to study Sirius.

“I once broke my arm and it stayed broken for a week before anyone in my family noticed.” Sirius remained calm as he delivered this quite painful truth. Remus kept squinting in Sirius’ direction, his eyes scattering around Sirius’ face.

“Next,” he demanded, and Sirius nodded. For a moment, he debated telling the biggest truth, a truth that he was sure Remus wouldn’t even believe. He settled for the lesser of two.

“I think your scars are ridiculously hot.” He glanced over out of the corner of his eye, watching Remus’ chest rise with a deep breath, eyebrows furrow.

“Can I ask for clarification?” Remus asked, and Sirius nodded, but spoke before Remus could ask, the tension burrowing down into the deepest parts of his stomach.

“I am not referring to temperature,” Sirius stated plainly, keeping his relaxed posture, despite the erratic rattling of his heart in his ribs.

“Then that’s the lie,” Remus said immediately, definitively. Sirius sat up quickly, leaning into Remus’ face and blinking hard. Remus remained firm.

“ _What_? _That’s_ your guess?” Sirius asked in disbelief, and Remus nodded as he stood, walking over to his bed and settling himself down onto it.

“Of course. Tell me what I win, Pads,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it onto his dresser. Sirius sat still, mouth ajar.

“You don’t win anything.” Sirius finally stood to turn out the lights, taking Remus’ sudden removal of his clothing as a sign that he was going to bed. “You really think Mrs. Potter was married before Fleamont? _That_ was the lie.” Remus let out a huff, crawling under the sheets of his bed, saving enough space for Sirius to climb in next to him.

“Then you told two lies and one truth.” Remus wouldn’t look him in the eye, despite that Sirius had oriented himself to lie right in front of Remus’ line of sight.

“Remus, don’t be ridi-”

“Pads, don’t patronize me,” Remus let out an overly sardonic laugh – the sound was biting and sharp and angry. “ _Nobody_ thinks the scars are attractive.”

Sirius was getting so frustrated that he forgot to be flustered, he forgot the secret he was trying to keep from Remus. “Except me, evidently? Because they’re fucking _hot_ , Moony.”

Sirius was sure he imagined the movement of Remus’ throat, the act of Remus swallowing hard at Sirius’ choice of words. The secret he kept no longer mattered – his only goal was to convince Remus of how wrong he was. How _attractive_ he was. At least to Sirius.

“That’s bullshit,” Remus scoffed, genuine irritation in his voice.

“You want me to prove it?” Sirius provoked him, and as Remus immediately clenched his jaw, Sirius knew he had dug himself into a very deep, inescapable hole.

“Prove it how?” Remus asked expectantly. Sirius’ face flared red.

“I’ll make a pact with you right now,” Sirius said, though he could barely hear himself speak over the deafening pounding of the blood in his ears. “If you find nobody, not a single person who agrees with me, I’ll marry you myself,” Sirius paused, purposefully letting his eyes drift lazily down Remus’ exposed chest. “Because God _damn_.”

The blushing grin on Remus’ face was unmistakable, even in the dark, and Sirius half-hoped that his obvious expression of attraction for Remus could be played off as his desperation to prove his point. On the other hand, he hoped Remus might recognize it for what it was.

“Your pity proposal is generous, thank you. Now you’re stuck with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sirius said, slightly disappointed as Remus turned to face the wall. After a few moments, he called out again, without turning.

“Pads?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re pretty fucking hot, too, you know.” Sirius buried his face in the pillow.

\-----

More than once, Sirius had reprimanded himself for that missed opportunity. Sure, Remus was probably just returning the compliment, but if he wasn’t? Sirius couldn’t dwell on it.

_All the promises, vows under the covers_

_We would play pretend my love_

_But it was real to me_

_Now I waste my days away_

_I know I can’t recover_

_There’s no love lost, but I’ll be forever yours_

_Forever yours, forever yours_

_No love lost, but I’ll be forever yours_

_Forever yours, forever yours_

_No love lost, but I’ll be forever yours_

 

It was six o’clock. The wedding started in an hour. The phone had rung so many times that Sirius had pulled the cord from the wall. No doubt it was James. Maybe even Remus. But Sirius couldn’t talk to either of them. They would try to convince him to be there, and Sirius wouldn’t be able to hear the deep, pleading hum of Remus’ voice and not give into it.

As soon as he had torn the phone cord from the wall, he knew he was going to have to leave. One of them would come looking for him, and he couldn’t let it be Remus. If he were to see Remus in that tux again, on the day of his wedding, Sirius would lose it. He would pull Remus into the most passionate kiss of his life. Either that, or he would start sobbing. One or the other.

He’d just barely started to pack a suitcase when an insistent knock tapped on the door. It was James, Sirius knew immediately. Mostly because the knocking didn’t stop. And it got louder with every moment it went unanswered. Resigned, Sirius opened the door, letting out a loud sigh.

James stood there in his tux, falling forward just a bit as Sirius interrupted his incessant knocking. As soon as James saw Sirius wearing his normal black jeans and T-shirt, he threw his arms out to the side, looking rather irritated.

“What the hell, mate?” Sirius let his head drop forward, hanging low.

“I’m not going. You’re going to have to be the best man.” James stared at him for a long time before pushing through Sirius and into the apartment.

“Are you joking? You’re really not going to be there on the day your best friend gets married?” James argued, his tone raising to a shout. Sirius took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly through pursed lips.

“No,” he said simply. “I’m really not.” The expression on James’ face was immediate worry, especially as he noticed the half-packed case on Sirius’ bed.

“Are you leaving? What’s going on?” There was panic in James’ eyes. He didn’t like change. Of course, neither did Sirius. And there was too much change for Sirius to stay.

“Yeah, I’m leaving. _Now_. So, go back to the church and tell Moony I’m sorry.” Sirius opened the door for James to leave, but James slammed it shut again.

“No!” he shouted. “Not until I know what the fuck is going on!”

“It doesn’t matter, James. Nothing matters.”

“It fucking matters! Your best friend is getting married!”

“To someone _else_!” Sirius screamed, angry tears suddenly spilling over Sirius’ flushed cheeks, as he realized he’d said too much. “Fuck,” he muttered, pushing his hand through his hair as he turned his back to James, trying to keep his composure.

“To someone _else_?” James said softly, his voice small. Sirius swallowed. He hadn’t even told James the truth about Remus. He hadn’t told anyone. “Sirius, do you …” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed to a point that hadn’t yet been made aloud. “I do.”

“You do, _what_?” James pressed, and Sirius growled loudly.

“You’re going to make me say it out loud?”

“I think it _needs_ to be,” James sighed. Sirius turned on his heel, bearing down into James’ face, who didn’t even flinch in the slightest.

“I love him, Prongs! I’m in love with him. And I can’t watch him marry someone who isn’t _me_ ,” he emphasized, gripping onto his chest, clawing into the fabric of his shirt. The tears in his eyes increased in fold, streaming down his reddened cheeks.

“Oh, Sirius,” James breathed out, pulling his friend into his arms and holding his shaking frame against his broad shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because Remus is straight. And he’s my best friend. I couldn’t lose him,” Sirius wept into James’ expensive black tux. “And when it was just us, I thought I could do it. But we’re about to lose him completely. _I’m_ about to lose him completely.”

“I can’t …” James started, at an obvious loss for the right words to say. “He can’t marry her, then. He has to know. Sirius, what if he …” Sirius cut him off.

“He doesn’t,” Sirius replied bitterly. “He wouldn’t be getting married to _her_ if he did.”

“Fuck,” James muttered, running his hand over the back of Sirius’ head. “I’m … Jesus, I’m so sorry, Pads.” Sirius took in a deep, shaking breath.

“I know.” Sirius pulled back, trying to wipe the saline from his face, trying to calm his breathing, trying to soothe the ache in his chest. He was unsuccessful at everything.

James looked nervous. “I’ll make up something. But don’t …” he lowered his head for a moment, adjusting his glasses. “Don’t do anything stupid. _I_ still need you.”

“I won’t. Solemnly swear.” Sirius tried to smile, but it was all tears. “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll let you know when I find myself there.” James closed the gap between them again, taking Sirius into his arms a second time, squeezing hard.

“I love you, you know.”

“I know,” Sirius sighed heavily. “I love you just the same.” He pushed James back, turning him to the door. “Now, go. You’re going to be late. Somebody has to be the best man.”

“Call me as soon as you can,” James said, with one last glance at Sirius as he opened the door. Sirius just nodded, and the door shut softly as James left.

As he continued packing, Sirius lit up a cigarette, realizing very quickly that he was going to have to find a new brand, because the taste only reminded him of Remus.

\-----

Sirius sat at the top of the bleachers, watching James move lithely between the other players on the field, the ball and his feet seeming to move perfectly in time. It wasn’t that Sirius was using James’ football practice as a means to hide from Remus, but today was a rather hard day. Hard in that Remus was overly touchy and it made Sirius overly touchy in return. Neither of which were very good for Sirius’ mental health.

Without removing the cigarette from between his teeth, he slowly exhaled the smoke from his lungs, the cigarette bouncing precariously against his lips. As he watched the silver smoke dissolve into the surrounding air, the image of Remus approaching came into view.

“You’re quite good at that,” Remus remarked, nodding to the cigarette.

“You should see what else I can do with my mouth,” Sirius teased, snarling right afterward at how easily he let himself get drawn into these situations. It was so easy to toy with Remus, and Remus provoked right back. Which made it infinitely worse.

Remus made a face, and Sirius wasn’t sure if it was directed at the comment or the following sneer. Either way, he countered, “Is your tongue just as capable?”

“Come up here and find out,” Sirius mumbled into his cigarette, inhaling hard as Remus ascended the bleachers, sitting just next to him. Closer than Sirius expected.

“I bet you’re all talk, Black,” Remus hummed. “You’re probably shit in bed.”

“Care to place a wager?” Sirius taunted. “I’ll take you under these bleachers right now.”

“No wonder you smoke so much,” Remus grinned. “Hell, _I_ need a cigarette after the way you talk to me, Pads.” Sirius held out his half-empty pack and the lighter between his fingers. 

“You smoke just as much as I do.” But Remus shook his head.

“Only because you made it look so damn good.” Sirius tried so hard to stifle the blush in his cheeks. If Remus noticed, he didn’t comment on it. “I probably should have angled for shot-gunning it from you first, though. Missed opportunity, there.” Sirius looked over at him, eyebrow raised, and Remus scoffed. “Oh, don’t try to tell me that Sirius Black doesn’t know what shot-gunning is.” Sirius turned the corners of his mouth down, shrugging.

“I guess you’ll have to give me a demonstration,” Sirius hummed, delighted in his ability to finally call Remus’ bluff. Usually he was the one having to suffer a cold shower.

“Even better, I’ll explain it to you and then you’ll be left to agonize over what could have been if you weren’t such an ignorant tosser.”

“You’re stalling, Moony. I don’t think you can make it sound as good as you’re hyping it up to be,” Sirius gloated. Remus quickly threw his leg over one side of the bleacher, straddling the bench that Sirius was sitting on, pressing himself right up against Sirius’ side, his lips to Sirius’ cheek. His voice was low, deep, breathy in Sirius’ ear, and Sirius was glad that Remus didn’t seem to notice the shiver it sent down the center of Sirius’ spine.

“You breathe the smoke into your lungs. And you hold it there,” Remus slid his hand over Sirius’ ribs, and Sirius tried not to change his breathing pattern. “With the smoke in your mouth, you put your lips against mine, and you breathe into me.” Sirius swallowed. “I take it down, breathing in the smoke from your lungs, and _God_ , it tastes just like you,” Remus voice wavered, his breath staggering out, his hand on Sirius’ waist gripping tightly onto his shirt. As Sirius began to wonder if this was no longer an act, a shaking breath fell from his lips. “And you taste so fuc–”

“Padfoot!” James shouted from the field, violently shaking them both from a not-so-private moment. Remus pushed himself rather far away from Sirius, looking down the bleachers.

“What?” Sirius snapped, trying to think about something else, anything other than the warmth of Remus breath against his neck. He pulled at the collar of his shirt to dispel it.

“Let’s go! You too, Moony!” Sirius glanced over at Remus, who had a very strange expression on his face. When he noticed Sirius watching him, the expression changed to a smirk.

“Wasn’t as good as I hyped it up to be?” Remus asked, playfully pulling at Sirius’ collar.

“Shut up,” Sirius grinned, lowering his face to hide a blush.

\-----

Sirius quickly put the cigarette out and continued to pack, trying to ignore the smell of smoke that only reminded him of the taste of Remus. A taste he’d never know first-hand.

_Place my bouquet of old regrets_

_Drop the weight of my sins_

_The ground takes in the better man I could have been_

 

Just at seven o’clock, as Sirius had finished packing, he heard the bells of the cathedral chiming, signaling the change of the hour and, for Sirius, the change in the course of his life. He had no plan for where he would go, no plan for how long he would stay away. All he knew was that he couldn’t be in the town where Remus married another. Where Remus _loved_ another.

For a moment, Sirius tortured himself with the thought of Remus having his first dance as a married man, and his stomach turned. There had been a time when Sirius had been his dance partner, if only for a single, charged moment.

\-----

“Why did you drag me to this?” Remus groaned, loosening the tie around his neck and leaning heavily back into his metal folding chair, his head falling backward. Sirius looked away to keep his eyes from tracing over the long, sharp curves of Remus’ neck.

“It’s the last Spring Formal we’ll ever have, Moony,” Sirius argued, downing half his glass of punch and wondering if he could taste the tiniest hint of liquor or if that was wishful thinking.

“We could be at my house right now doing something much more entertaining,” Remus said, closing his eyes. It kept him from seeing the rise in Sirius’ brow.

“Like what?” he asked, putting sarcasm into his tone to keep Remus from hearing the expectant tremble in his voice.

“Anything, Pads.” Remus looked over at him. Sirius swore there was mischief in his gaze, but he closed his eyes again and it was gone. “Anything would be better than this.”

“That’s only because you’re sitting here sulking instead of out there dancing,” Sirius huffed, and Remus led out a loud, sarcastic laugh.

“And just who am I supposed to dance with?” he grumbled, but there was the hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth, as if he knew exactly where this would lead. Sirius did, too.

“Your only choices are dance with me and we make fools of ourselves together or you stay here and let me make a fool out of myself all alone.” 

“I’m really tempted to see you act foolish all on your own,” Remus replied, but the end of his words didn’t quite cut off. “I’ll only agree if we can dance as close as possible to James and that red-haired girl he’s dancing with, so we can embarrass the shit out of him.”

“Was there any other option?” Sirius grinned, extending his hand for Remus to take. And Remus didn’t hesitate for a single second. Excitedly, Sirius pulled his partner over to where James was dancing – to a song that was fast enough that no one would notice who was dancing with who. In the mess of bodies, Sirius pulled Remus to his chest.

“Is James blushing? I can’t see his face,” Remus laughed, but his gaze wasn’t wandering, wasn’t looking for James. It was resolutely fixed onto Sirius, who tightened his grip on Remus’ waist, moving his hips against Remus’. A pink shade spread across Remus’ skin.

“James isn’t the only one. Do I make you that nervous, Moony?” Sirius jeered, and the blush on Remus’ cheeks deepened.

“Hardly,” Remus scoffed in reply. “It’s warm, is all.” He looked away from Sirius as he pulled at the tie around his throat, rolling his shoulders. “Maybe I should loosen this more.”

Sirius suppressed the sound that formed in his mouth as Remus snapped open the top two buttons of his collared shirt, displaying the defined shape of his collarbones. And he tried to draw his eyes away from the slight glistening of Remus’ skin under the spotlights, but failed dreadfully, knowing he was only a movement away from pressing his lips against Remus’ skin.

“James has noticed us,” Sirius said, changing the subject and unwillingly tearing his gaze away from the warm sheen of Remus’ throat, underneath his open collar.

“He looks quite grumpy,” Remus agreed. James looked over at both of them like he was contemplating how to get away with murder. His date, on the other hand, looked quite amused.

“She seems nice,” Sirius commented, sliding his hand around Remus’ waist again, underneath his suit jacket, taking note of how he could feel some of Remus’ more prominent scars through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. Taking note of the sudden change in Remus’ breathing, though he was fairly sure that the two events were unrelated.

“Yes, very nice,” Remus stated shortly, evidently running low on breath. Just then, the song abruptly changed – to a slow-dance. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Sirius sighed, trying to keep his voice from falling an octave lower than it should, trying to keep his voice out of the range of seductive whisper.

“If we leave now, we won’t be able to spy on them,” Remus countered, swaying in time to the movement of the people around them. Sirius still hadn’t moved his hand from Remus’ waist, and unless he was mistaken, Remus had moved a little closer to him. No, it was _obvious_ Remus had moved in, as he placed his arms around Sirius’ neck, a soft smile under the soft lights.

James twirled over toward them. “Leave now or I will kill both of you.” Remus looked back at Sirius with a smile, his eyes golden under the dimmed lights, and Sirius knew then Remus didn’t want to leave. If given the choice, Remus would stay there and dance with him under silver lights.

“I guess _that’s_ our cue,” Sirius grinned. Mirroring his smile, Remus pulled back, reaching into his coat pocket and slipping out a silver flask, just enough for Sirius to see.

“How do you feel about spiking the punch?” Remus winked.

\-----

He would bury this memory, just like he had buried all the others. He would bury the thought of what he could have had with Remus, who he could have _been_ with Remus.

A shaken sigh slipped from Sirius’ lips as he latched his suitcase closed, letting his hands linger on the vinyl for a moment. A wondering thought over whether he was doing the right thing passed through his mind, but he shook it away. He didn’t have any other choice.

Suitcase in hand, he walked toward his front door, each step heavier, harder, more painful than the last. His trembling hand reached up to the doorknob.

 

_All the promises, vows under the covers_

_We would play pretend my love_

_But it was real to me_

_Now I waste my days away_

_I know I can’t recover_

_There’s no love lost, but I’ll be forever yours_

_Forever yours, forever yours_

_No love lost, but I’ll be forever yours_

_Forever yours, forever yours_

_No love lost, but I’ll be forever yours_

 

Remus stood at Sirius’ door, still in his stunningly white tux, with a sprig of green in the pocket, just like Sirius imagined there would be. His chest heaved, he swallowed hard, perspiration beaded around his temples – he had run here from the church.

“Moony.” The breath fell from Sirius' mouth, as it hung open in shock. Remus appeared pale – Sirius wasn’t sure if it was the white of his tuxedo washing out his face against the orange glow of the sunset behind him, or if he was exhausted from running with everything he had. As Remus’ eyes flickered down to the suitcase in Sirius’ hand, the worry in Remus’ expression became clear – he knew Sirius was leaving. Maybe he knew he couldn’t stop him.

Sirius almost, _almost_ pushed past him. At that moment, to Sirius, Remus was the most selfish person in the world. It didn’t matter that he knew Sirius was deliberately staying away from him – it seemed all that mattered was that _Remus_ was happy, Sirius be damned.

“Sirius, tell me the truth,” Remus said, through uneven breaths. “Why aren’t you at the church right now?” Sirius closed his mouth to grit his teeth unnoticed.

“Isn’t it more important that _you’re_ not at the church?” Sirius huffed back, not fully grasping the reality of the situation, _why_ Remus was standing in his doorway.

“It _is_ important. That alone should be enough to tell you what you already know,” Remus said, a quiver in his voice, and Sirius was too irritated to hear the panic in Remus’ voice.

“What, Remus? What should be enough?” Sirius snapped. Remus let out a breath.

“That I ran out of that church in the middle of the ceremony and I ran straight to _you_.”

Sirius stopped, the suitcase sliding from his fingertips. “Oh,” he said quietly, the weight of what Remus was saying falling like a stone in his gut.

“So, I need you to say it, Sirius,” Remus continued, reaching out for Sirius, but balling his fingers into a fist in mid-air, as if in a silent promise to himself. “I _need_ you to say it. Please.”

For a moment, Sirius was quiet. _Could_ he say it? Remus stood right there in front of him, like Sirius always imagined, begging him for the truth. 

 

Blinking slowly, breathing raggedly, Sirius whispered, “Moony, I’m in love with you.”

 

Immediately, Remus let out the breath he was holding, relief washing over his features as he slipped his hands around Sirius’ neck, pulling Sirius’ lips against his own. His kiss wasn’t soft like Sirius expected it to be. It wasn’t timid or unsure or cautious, the way he had imagined Remus would first kiss him. No, it was tempestuous and unrestrained and decisive, and Sirius had to grip the lapels of Remus’ jacket to keep himself on his feet.

“I couldn’t do it, Pads.” Remus’ voice was hushed between kisses, his fingers sliding up the back of Sirius’ neck, into his dark hair. “I couldn’t marry someone else when I’m so very much in love with _you_.” Sirius’ breath caught suddenly, so Remus breathed new air into him.

“But she … you …” Sirius tried to argue but had lost all will to convince Remus of anything other than _this_. He didn’t want to risk unblinding Remus to the decision he’d just made. 

“I don’t love her, Sirius,” Remus said with a slight laugh in his voice, as his lips found Sirius’ again, still in the open doorway of his apartment. “I have only, ever loved _you_.”

“Then why?” Sirius whined onto Remus’ lips. “Why were you going to marry her?” Remus’ lips grew still as they drifted away, as he placed his forehead to Sirius’, his thumb running back and forth along Sirius’ jaw, catching on the stubble in the deep cavern of Sirius’ cheek.

“I thought it was the only way to save my father from bankruptcy,” he sighed, surely seeing the look in Sirius’ eyes that he’d gotten rather familiar with over the last few days. A look that told him how much Remus had destroyed him. “Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn’t imagine reciting vows I knew I would break. Because I was _always_ going to end up here. With you.” Sirius let his head fall back just enough to fall into Remus’ open palm behind it, closing his eyes.

“But what about your –”

“I told her I was sorry. That I was in love with someone else. She knew it was you, I talked about you at every turn of conversation.” Sirius watched Remus wide-eyed, blinking deliberately, and Remus planted a kiss against Sirius’ nose before continuing. “She screamed a few slurs at me and told me she was only marrying me for the money. Which we don’t even have.” The look on Remus’ face was unadulterated satisfaction in the choice he’d made.

“Wait, you _knew,_ didn’t you?” Sirius breathed out suddenly, dark eyebrows furrowed tightly. The rapture on Remus’ face drained into unease. “You knew how I felt about you and you still let me believe that you loved her.” 

“I didn’t …” Remus started, but he let his head fall. “No, you’re right. I knew.” Instantly, Sirius pulled out of Remus’ embrace, stumbling back into his apartment. “Sirius –” Remus tried to explain as he followed, carefully shutting the door behind him. Sirius interrupted.

“How _could_ you?” Sirius barked, angry tears threatening for only a moment before spilling over his sunken cheeks. “You looked me in the fucking eye and told me you were marrying someone else. And you watched me _fall_ _apart_ , Remus.” Sirius’ voice trembled, with anger and regret and despair. He buried his face in his hands to hide it, but they shook even more.

“I thought I didn’t have a choice,” Remus said, visibly shaken by Sirius’ emotional breakdown. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, to keep himself from reaching out.

“You could have told _me_ the truth, at least! I waited for months to hear you say this to me, Moony. Because I thought that’s what you were going to say, just before you got on the plane. I thought you were going to tell me you loved me.” Sirius bit his lip so hard, he tasted blood.

“I was! I _do_!” Remus shouted, raising his head to the ceiling to keep tears from spilling over his flushed cheeks. “I _do_ love you, Sirius. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Then tell me why I’ve spent the last two nights crying myself to sleep!” Sirius howled, and at Sirius’ confession, Remus stopped, his lower lip trembling.

“Because I thought it would be easier,” he whispered, roughly pushing his fingertips across his face to clear away the tears that he wouldn’t let spill over. “I couldn’t have you, Pads.” Finally, Remus met Sirius’ gaze, and Remus’ hardened exterior broke, tears overwhelming the golden color of his eyes. “I couldn’t have you. When you were the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

Their eyes met, and Sirius could see it, then. The emptiness in Remus’ chest at the thought of having to live without Sirius, the aching grip against his heart at having to keep Sirius at a distance for the sake of his family. It spilled out over Remus’ cheeks, and Sirius’ anger dissolved.

“Goddammit, Moony,” Sirius muttered, quickly closing the gap between them and taking Remus into his arms, pressing their lips together, saline mingling within the kiss. “You have me _now_. And I have _you_. It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters.” 

“I never should have kept it from you,” Remus sighed, peppering Sirius’ face with tender kisses, wet with tears. “God, I was _so_ lost without you.”

“You’ll never be without me again, Moony. Never, ever.” Sirius pressed himself to Remus, pinning him to the door and letting his lips explore Remus’ again.

“Sirius,” Remus sighed into him, his tone relaxed, but urgency in his voice and in his hands as they migrated down to Sirius’ hips, sliding over every single dip and curve of Sirius’ waist.

As Sirius pulled back, he saw a familiar look on Remus’ face, one that he’d never had the context to understand before then. Remus watched him closely with hooded, dark eyes, a gaze that wandered erratically over Sirius’ features – the same expression he’d found on Remus’ face the night Sirius realized he was in love with him. If only he’d recognized it earlier.

Taking a step back, Sirius slipped his fingers into Remus’ and pulled him from where he was leaning against the door – Sirius could feel Remus’ racing heartbeat in his fingertips. And Remus knew, Remus _always_ knew. He tightened the grip on Sirius’ hand and Remus led them into Sirius’ bedroom, only a sliver of sunset against the ceiling to light their movements.

Remus settled on the corner of Sirius’ bed, spreading his legs out to each side and pulling Sirius over to stand in the space between them. His hands started at Sirius’ knees, drifting up over every bunch of fabric, over every rise of skin, until they reached the hem of Sirius’ shirt. Risking a look up to Sirius’ face, Remus bit down on his lip.

“Do you still want me?” Remus asked softly, honest and hesitant, as if afraid of what Sirius would say in response. As his reply, Sirius curved down to place a delicate kiss against Remus’ lips, finding Remus’ fingers with his own and guiding them up underneath Sirius’ shirt. With their lips still together, the moment Remus’ timid fingers touched Sirius’ bare waist, he took in a sharp, deep breath through his nose, his touch becoming heavy on Sirius’ skin.

“You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted,” Sirius repeated Remus’ words, muted by the sound of his racing heart. Remus let his hands drift lazily, but with purpose, over Sirius’ half-exposed skin. They curved up, rising and falling with every rib and Sirius’ shirt rose further. With one hand, Remus bunched Sirius’ shirt in trembling fingers and, with soft, careful movements, Remus placed his lips against Sirius’ stomach. Sirius stirred, a shudder traveling up his spine.

“Pads, you’re …” Remus swallowed, feathering his lips against Sirius’ shivering skin, sensitive and stimulated by Remus’ mouth. He drew lazy circles over his ribs, just to touch him.

“Tell me, Moony,” Sirius pleaded. No more secrets between them, nothing more unsaid, never again to go through the pain of losing the other.

Remus breathed out, the warmth rolling down Sirius’ hips, bristling the soft, dark hair trailing down from Sirius’ belly button. “You’re just so much softer than I expected you to be. I’ve never … touched you. Not like this. Not like _this_.” A blush flourished across Remus’ cheeks, as he placed a hot kiss over the skin where he spoke, and Sirius couldn’t help but blush in return.

“You …” Sirius started, the blush on his face deepening. “You can touch me as much as you want, Moony.” The look in Remus’ eyes as he looked up unsettled the air in Sirius’ lungs.

“More?” Remus asked, almost in hypothetical, eyebrows raised imperceptibly.

Sirius nodded. “More.” He took the bunched fabric from Remus’ fingers and pulled the shirt over his head. Remus’ eyes widened, just a bit, as he took in the sight of Sirius, shirtless. A sight he had seen before, many times, but never quite this close. Never, _ever_ in _this_ way.

A short breath fell from Remus’ lungs – his expression was overwhelmed. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around Sirius, the curve of his elbow fitting perfectly into the slope of Sirius’ waist, and he buried his face into Sirius’ stomach, just underneath his ribs.

“ _God_ , Pads,” he moaned into Sirius’ skin, his kisses becoming heavier, longer, deeper and working their way steadily down toward Sirius’ hip. “How are you so perfect?” The hot flush of Sirius’ skin spread down, settling underneath Remus’ lips.

“Far from perfect,” Sirius mumbled just as Remus softly dragged the pads of his fingers along the waist of Sirius’ jeans, to which Sirius replied by taking an overly gasping breath into his lungs. At that reaction, Remus looked up, the gold in his eyes molten.

“You have always been perfect to _me_.” And Remus let his fingertips tuck just under the fabric of Sirius’ jeans, against the warm skin underneath. The stimulated expression on his face and the aching breath that fell from his throat sent a tremble down Sirius’ core.

“How long have you loved me, Moony?” Sirius asked suddenly, driving his hands into Remus’ soft honey curls, as Remus again spread his mouth out over Sirius.

“All my life,” he sang between open-mouthed kisses, Sirius guiding his hands to the button of his jeans, which Remus seemed anxious, nervous in unfastening. As he did, pulling on the zipper slowly, he looked up at Sirius to watch him react to Remus’ fingers brush against the length of him, still tucked away under one remaining layer of fabric. Sirius couldn’t prevent the provoked whimper, the autonomous twitch of his abdomen underneath Remus’ touch.

“It took me a long time to figure it out,” Sirius admitted, as Remus let his hand glide into Sirius’ jeans, curving with his hip, sliding down to the backs of his thighs. With the movement of his hands, Sirius’ jeans slipped off, and Remus helped him step out of them.

“I know the _exact_ day you figured it out,” Remus said in a soft hum, his eyes drawn to the shape of Sirius, pressed tight to the cotton of his boxer-briefs. For a moment, he hesitated, surely knowing, just as Sirius knew, that this would change the dynamic of their relationship forever. But he rested his forehead against Sirius’ belly, and delicately traced around the length of Sirius, through the fabric. Sirius pulled in a breath through his teeth, and Remus looked up.

“You knew? The same day _I_ knew?” Sirius laughed, to calm the hammering in his chest.

“ _Yes_ ,” Remus breathed out, pressing his forehead a little deeper into Sirius’ stomach, finally running his fingertips along Sirius’ erection. Sirius exhaled hard. “It was the day you were locked in your room. The day I made you touch me.” The way Remus said it sent a very familiar, very dangerous heat deep into the pit of Sirius’ stomach. “Why do you think I did that?”

“Trying to … tease me?” Sirius groaned as Remus’ touch became heavier – he used the ball of his hand to press firmly against Sirius, rolling his palm back and forth along Sirius’ cock.

“Either you were still unsure, or you had an iron will,” Remus laughed, and Sirius could feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric.

“I thought you were straight, Moony.” Remus leaned back to laugh, though not removing his hand from Sirius. If anything, Remus held him more firmly.

“You always were rather oblivious to me. Even when I was trying to be _so_ forward. You remember the bleachers?” Remus rose high a single brow and Sirius swallowed.

“What was it you nearly said to me that day? How I would …”

“Taste so fucking good?” Remus finished, smiling as he glanced down, feeling the twitch in Sirius’ cock from where it was resting within Remus’ hand.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sirius growled. Without warning, Remus bent, wrapping his lips around Sirius’ hipbone and sucking, sliding Sirius’ briefs down his thighs. When Remus pulled back to get a full, hungry look at his best friend, and his mouth hung slightly ajar.

“Oh.” Remus’ voice went still, soft. Until he exhaled hard, in the shape of Sirius’ favorite nickname, followed by Sirius’ favorite word. “Pads, _fuck_.” And Sirius couldn’t let Remus take his time any more. He needed to feel Remus’ skin, the way Remus had felt him, to see Remus, naked and open and matchless, and for _Sirius_ alone, the way he’d always imagined.

Straddling over where Remus sat on the bed, Sirius folded over to slide his tongue slowly past Remus’ lips. Remus let out a tight breath in response, hands spreading out over Sirius’ back as Sirius pushed him back down onto the mattress.

As Remus rested there, underneath Sirius’ legs, and Sirius straightened his back, he watched Remus eyes drift systematically down his torso, stopping hard between his legs.

Remus opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then opened again. “Tell me I can touch you, Sirius.” Sirius couldn’t help the arrogant rise he felt in his brow.

“I’m absolutely yours, Moony. You can do anything you want to me,” Sirius said underneath a soft smile, over a mild blush that spread down his throat.

“Y-yeah?” Remus stammered vacantly, bringing his hands slowly up to Sirius’ skin, brushing the pads of his thumbs along the slanting muscles that ran down inside Sirius’ hips.

“Yes,” Sirius said, Remus’ fingers dancing closer to Sirius’ center. “Yes.” As Remus’ hand reached him, wrapping soft and warm around Sirius for the first time, Sirius didn’t even try to keep down the weighted breath that rose from his chest. “Oh. _Remus_.”

Remus’ fingers circled tighter, shifting just so, and Remus watched, shamelessly attentive, as Sirius reacted, arching into Remus’ touch. “Oh my _God_.” Remus let out a shaky, airy moan.

“I want to make you feel like this, too, Moony,” Sirius growled, leaning over Remus and diving into his mouth, tongue first, as the flicking of Remus’ wrist grew more rapid. Unintentionally, Sirius matched the movement of his tongue to the shifting of Remus’ fingers, as he pulled Remus up from the bed, Sirius’ cock in Remus’ fingers pressed between them.

Finally, Sirius realized why he had been so keen on Remus in the white tuxedo. It wasn’t just to pretend that he would be the one to meet Remus at the end of the aisle, but because he could pretend that he would be the one to tear it from Remus’ skin on his wedding night. Never, _never_ would he have expected that vision to be _this_ accurate.

But there they were; Sirius, naked, straddled over Remus, with his tongue discovering every space within Remus’ mouth, and Remus’ hand between Sirius’ legs. And Sirius pulling the jacket of his white tux from Remus’ shoulders. If he’d had time to think about it, he would be awestruck, but his hurry to feel Remus underneath his fingers dulled every other thought.

The black vest was next, the black bow tie. And though Sirius never learned to tie one, he had little trouble in the opposite – he slipped it from Remus’ neck with a slight tilt of Remus’ head to let him remove it. At the sight of Remus’ exposed throat, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously underneath his skin, Sirius instantly pulled it into his mouth, tracing the shape with his tongue.

One of Sirius’ favorite fantasies was Remus’ voice – hearing the heavy breathing of Remus undone by the work of Sirius’ mouth, or listening to Remus swear in that deep, rough tone that Sirius sometimes heard when Remus first woke in the morning. No amount of imagination could have prepared him for the way Remus’ voice sounded just then. It was deeper than it had ever been in the mornings, breathing heavier than when Remus had climbed into the window of his bedroom. And when Remus swore, it was low and bottomless. A snarl, a howl, a symphony.

When Sirius pulled the shirt from Remus’ shoulders, Remus let himself fall back onto the mattress below him, his hand slipping away from Sirius as he let Sirius’ gaze scatter. He’d seen Remus’ scars, he’d felt them the first day he realized he was in love with his best friend. Often, he’d thought back on that day, mostly when he was alone, when it was dark, when he needed to be touched. He would think about the jagged, raised skin underneath his fingertips, the way Remus had breathed out in response to the warmth of Sirius’ touch. How Remus had said no one had ever touched him like that. No one but Sirius.

His hands were on Remus’ skin before he realized he’d told them to move. That day, in Sirius’ bedroom, Remus’ skin had been cold, wet from the rain. Now, the scars on Remus’ chest were burning, scalding to the touch, damp with perspiration. Before Sirius had even considered the thought, he was folded over Remus, dragging his tongue along a scar that stretched over Remus’ ribs. The sound from Remus’ throat was melodic, kindling the spark in Sirius’ chest.

His mouth wandered down Remus’ chest, moving low on Remus’ stomach – he let his tongue dip lightly into Remus’ belly button, an instant arch breaking from Remus’ spine.

“Oh, Sirius. _Sirius_ ,” Remus moaned Sirius’ name in repetition. But when Sirius’ lips reached the scar at Remus’ hip, the one that was half-hidden, and Sirius let his tongue curl down into the waist of Remus’ trousers to feel every solid, ragged inch of that scar, Remus went quiet. Not yet letting himself be removed from Remus’ skin, Sirius’ eyes flicked up to watch Remus, head thrown back, mouth hanging open soundlessly, hand wound tightly in his own hair. Seeing Remus absolutely ruined with want, with _need_ for him, need for _Sirius_ sent Sirius into a frantic spiral.

The movement of his hands changed, in speed and in control – his hands shook as he urgently pulled at the button of Remus’ trousers, and then the zipper. His mouth still hadn’t moved from Remus’ hip. In fact, the weight of his mouth increased, he felt Remus’ skin fold between his teeth and he sucked hard on it, feeling it bruise underneath his tongue.

As soon as Sirius slipped his hand into the waist of Remus’ trousers, and Sirius felt the expansive length of him in his hand, Sirius’ name returned to Remus’ lips – louder, more insistent, verging on chaotic; a man possessed. Sirius hurried his movements, sliding the remainders of Remus’ clothes down his hips, letting them pool as a mess on the floor.

Once Remus was exposed beneath him, Sirius let out a soft, aching little whimper, overwhelmed with the fact that this was the best friend he’d been pining over for nearly a year. Overwhelmed in remembering how only an hour ago, he’d thought he’d lost this man forever.

Sirius didn’t think about the fact that he’d never been with anyone the way he’d be with Remus, the way he was with Remus, now. He didn’t have to think about how he’d never held anyone else in his hand but himself. He didn’t _think_ at all – he reached out, starting at the base and sliding up, curling around the shaft of Remus’ erection with delicate fingers.

With his name on Remus’ lips, Sirius curled in, pressing a wet, open kiss to the head of Remus’ cock, just to taste him. An unexpected cry from Remus’ lips sent Sirius’ eyes up to watch him while he settled his lips onto Remus again, swirling the pink tip with his pink tongue. Another shout, vowels prolonged into a moan, followed seamlessly by Sirius’ name. It echoed deep in Sirius’ gut, an electric charge sent down between Sirius’ legs. He let his own hand drift down.

“Moony,” Sirius groaned, pulling more of Remus into his mouth, only knowing he had never wanted to hear Remus’ voice more in all his life. His fingers tightened around his own cock.

“S-Sirius,” Remus stuttered, the muscles in his thighs pulsing. “Wait.”

Sirius placed his hand onto Remus’ leg, curving around behind it. “I don’t … I can’t.” He could feel the tremble of his own voice in his throat, feel it echo onto Remus’ skin in his mouth.

“Sirius, stop,” Remus suddenly called, cupping a hand underneath Sirius’ chin to pull him off. The panic had to be palpable in Sirius’ expression, but Remus returned a look of desperation.

“Did I …” Sirius swallowed, afraid he’d done something wrong. Remus blushed hard.

“I’m … I just … I was about to come.” He looked at Sirius shyly, nibbling his lip, like he was worried this would be too much information for Sirius. It _was_.

“Oh,” Sirius drew out the sound in breath, staring with a mind gone blank at Remus, who blushed more furiously the longer Sirius watched him.

“I want so many things from you right now. But you’re so …” Remus’ eyes scattered over Sirius’ bare skin. And Sirius was speaking almost before Remus had finished stammering.

“Oh, God, Moony, I _want_ you to come,” he exhaled. “I want to _see_ it.”

Remus swallowed. “It was too quick, I just couldn’t … and you … _God_ , your _mouth_ ,” he moaned, eyes drawn to the mouth in question, as Sirius drew his tongue around it.

“A mouth just for _your_ use, Remus,” Sirius growled, newfound arrogance and arousal at the stimulated look on Remus’ face, knowing that he fell apart under Sirius’ tongue.

“ _Jesus_ , Sirius,” Remus hissed as Sirius pulled him up, sliding him backward on the bed, until he landed with a hard thud against the headboard. Sirius straddled him again, adjusting his hips so that their cocks aligned, barely brushing against one another.

“I need to _feel_ you come. Feel you twitch against me. Feel you spill out warm onto my skin,” Sirius mumbled into Remus’ mouth, amidst Remus’ salacious moans. Without separating his mouth from Remus’, Sirius reached into the bedside table drawer, squeezing the contents of a plastic bottle into his hand. With slicked hands, he wrapped both around them, together.

“Oh, God, oh _God_ ,” Remus called out into the caverns of Sirius’ mouth.

“Speak to me, Moony,” Sirius begged, rocking his hips back and forth, slipping his cock in and out of the space of his hands, alongside Remus. “Get me off to the sound of your voice.”

“Oh my God, _Sirius_.” The breath in Remus’ voice staggered from his lips, tattered and wanting and ravenous. His eyes flicked down to Sirius’ hands, himself _within_ Sirius’ hands. “Sirius, you’re … _fucking_ me.” The words fell out in surprise, in awe, like Remus was in delirious disbelief.

“Oh, I will, Moony, _yes_ ,” Sirius groaned. “Swear at me again.” Sirius tried desperately to keep the pace of his hips, as Remus began to buck slightly in return.

“You’re so fucking perfect. So hard and so hot and so fucking perfect.” A sharp grunt pushed from Remus’ lips as Sirius thrust hard, deep, wildly against him.

“Again,” Sirius demanded with shallow breath.

“You’re everything to me, Sirius Black,” Remus confessed, as he gasped for air, head thrown back against the headboard. Sirius put his teeth against Remus’ throat. “And I’m _so_ fucked up for you.” Sirius bared his teeth, pressing into Remus’ neck. “I want to do so many fucked up things for you. So many fucked up things _to_ you.” Sirius took one of Remus’ hands, slicked it up against his own and wrapped it around their cocks with Sirius’ other hand.

“I know what you mean, Moony,” he hummed, letting his hand slip away; down, down between Remus’ legs, circling the tight ring of muscle hidden deep in Remus’ skin.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus said, voice rising, the tone sounding almost like a warning. Like Remus was afraid of the things that Sirius could make him feel.

“Is this what you mean?” Sirius asked in a rasping breath, lips moving against Remus’, but not in a kiss – in suspense, in waiting, desperate for permission.

“To _start._ ” Remus answered, taking air into his lungs, shaking and stuttering.

“Do you … want me to –” Remus interrupted.

“ _Yes_.” Carefully, Sirius slid his slicked finger into Remus, slowly, and he matched the rhythm of his hips to the movement of his finger. Remus sucked in a breath. 

“Okay?” Sirius whispered into his mouth, biting gently onto Remus’ lip, and pressing into him further, up to the last knuckle. Remus leaned his head back, letting Sirius’ lips fall to his neck.

“Don’t stop,” he said in a bare whisper. So, Sirius pulled back, both his hips and his fingers, timing them together, sliding his slick cock against Remus’ and fucking him with his finger. The sounds released from Remus’ chest intoxicated Sirius, spurring him to move faster, to fuck Remus harder, and Remus begged him to, calling out his name with every shove.  

“Jesus, Moony, fuck,” Sirius panted onto Remus’ throat, biting down as he thrust his hips hard into their hands, hard into Remus’ cock, driving Remus back into the headboard with each push. He added another finger to the one inside Remus, hot and tight and wet.

“God, I’m going to … Sirius, _fuck_ , I’m going to come,” Remus raised his voice, a single moment before Sirius felt him come against him, within his hand. He felt Remus’ skin trembling, cock twitching, felt his warm liquid spreading out over Sirius’ fingers, over the tip of his own cock. Felt the way Remus’ muscles contracted, seized around his fingers. Sirius watched Remus’ mouth fall open, noiselessly at first and then full of breath, moaning like a song.

Watching the orgasm of Remus’ expression, realizing he had climaxed his best friend, the best friend he had long been in love with, pushed Sirius over a teetering edge. He called out Remus’ name over and over, the rhythm of his hips becoming erratic and uncontrolled, his fingers slipped from within Remus, he gripped hard onto the back of Remus’ thigh. And he came, hard, muscles tense and raw, vision white with light, spilling out as Remus watched, biting his lip tightly as he listened to Sirius call out his name in shameless pleasure.

Spent, Sirius collapsed onto Remus, not even bothering to clean the chaos between them, joined by the sticky aftermath of their orgasm, by the slick of their sweat. He felt Remus press a soft kiss to his temple, still pulsing with the racing of his heart, the thrumming of his veins.

“God,” Remus expelled a breath, deep and prolonged and satisfied. It filled the room.

“Fuck,” Sirius agreed, nuzzling down into the nape of Remus’ neck, and still not feeling as if he could get close enough. It was only inside Remus that he felt close enough.

“I guess this finally proves it,” Remus mused, taking the cigarettes from Sirius’ bedside table and lighting one, breathing in hard to quell the restlessness in his lungs.

“Proves what?” Sirius asked, stealing the cigarette from Remus’ lips.

“Apparently you really _do_ think my scars are fucking hot,” Remus laughed, slightly blushing, and the smile on Sirius’ face was unequivocal, bright in the fading light of the room.

“You remember the deal,” he grinned, looking up as Remus blew pale smoke from his nostrils, some of it swirling around Sirius’ lips as he breathed it in.

“If I didn’t find anyone else who agreed with you,” he trailed off, to let Sirius finish the thought, and Sirius was quick to comply.

“Then I’d marry you myself. Because …” he paused, watching the color darken in Remus’ eyes, anticipating the words to follow, and Sirius leaned back to get a good look at Remus, naked and well-fucked underneath him. “God … **_damn_** ,” Sirius moaned, taking in a long drag on the cigarette before placing his lips to Remus’, breathing the smoke down into Remus’ lungs.

Remus eyes fluttered closed as their lips parted and he breathed out the smoke that Sirius had breathed in, a satisfied blow. He glanced up, a smile dancing across his lips, over his face.

“Well,” he began, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “We _do_ still have the tuxes.” Sirius felt an excited rise in his brow and the remnant of that excitement elsewhere, lower, deeper.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from the song [Forever Yours](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6cJoCzNX-s) by Grayscale.
> 
> Give me a shout on tumblr if you like: [mollymarymarie](https://mollymarymarie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
